THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 


THE  WORKS  OF  LOUIS  COUPERUS 

Translated  by 
Alexander  Teixeira  de  Mattos 

THE  BOOKS  OF  THE  SMALL  SOULS 

I.    Small  Souls 

IL    The  Later  Life 

HI.    The  Twilight  of  the  Souls 

IV.    Dr.  Adriaan 

Also 
Old   People   and   the   Things    That   Pass 
Ecstasy 
The  Tour 
The  Inevitable 
Majesty 
The  Hidden  Force 


THE 
HIDDEN    FORCE 

A  STORY  OF  MODERN  JAVA 


BY 

LOUIS  COUPERUS 


TRANSLATED   BY 

ALEXANDER  TEIXEIRA  DE  MATTOS 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

1921 


OOPYRIOHT,    1921 

By  dodd,  mead  and  company,  I»0. 


Printed  in   U.  S.  A. 


rr 

58^  t 


TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE 

This  novel  was  written  in  the  author's  middle  period, 
about  twenty  years  ago.  He  tells  me  that,  since  then, 
life  in  the  Dutch  East  Indies  has  undergone  certain 
modifications,  but  none  of  very  great  importance.  The 
habit  among  Dutch  ladies  of  wearing  native  dress  dur- 
ing the  day  has  nearly  died  out.  The  relations  between 
the  ruling  and  the  subject  race  are  almost  unchanged 
since  the  date  of  the  story  ( 1900) . 

I  have  retained  the  spelling  of  the  Malay  words  as 
it  stands  in  the  original,  with  the  exception  that  I  have 
transliterated  the  Dutch  phonetic  oe  into  Its  English 
equivalent,  u  or  oo.  The  other  vowels  are  pronounced 
in  the  continental  fashion. 

To  each  of  these  terms  I  have  appended  a  foot-note 
when  it  first  occurs ;  and  a  full  glossary  of  all  the  native 
words  and  phrases  will  be  found  at  the  end  of  the 
volume, 

Alexander  Teixeira  de  Mattos 
Chelsea,  23  June,  1921 


633044 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 


CHAPTER  I 

The  full  moon  wore  the  hue  of  tragedy  that  evening. 

It  had  risen  early,  during  the  last  gleams  of  daylight, 

in  the  semblance  of  a  huge,  blood-red  ball,  and,  flaming 

like  a  sunset  low  down  behind  the  tamarind-trees  in  the 

Lange  Laan,^  it  was  ascending,  slowly  divesting  itself 

of  its  tragic  complexion,  in  a  pallid  sky.     A  deadly 

stillness    extended  over  all  things  like  a  veil  of  silence, 

as  though,  after  the  long  mid-day  siesta,  the  evening 

rest  were  beginning  without  an  intervening  period  of 

life.     Over  the  town,  whose  white  villas  and  porticoes 

lay  huddled  amid  the  trees  of  the  lanes  and  gardens, 

hung  a  muffled  silence,  in  the  windless  oppression  of  the 

evening  air,  as  though  the  listless  night  were  weary  of 

the  blazing  day  of  eastern  monsoon.    The  houses,  from 

which  not  a  sound  was  heard,  shrank  away,  in  deathly 

silence,  amid  the  foliage  of  their  gardens,  with  the 

evenly  spaced,  gleaming  rows  of  the  great  whitewashed 

flower-pots.     Here  and  there  a  lamp  was  already  lit. 

Suddenly  a  dog  barked  and  another  answered,  rending 

the  muffled  silence  into  long,  ragged  tatters:   the  dogs' 

angry  throats  sounded  hoarse,  panting,  harshly  hostile ; 

then  they  too  suddenly  ceased  and  fell  silent. 

At  the  end  of  the  Lange  Laan  the  Residency  lay  far 

back  in  its  garden.     Low  and  vivid  in  the  darkness  of 

the  waringin-trees,"  it  lifted  the  zig-zag  outline  of  its 

tiled  roofs,  one  behind  the  other,   receding  into  the 

shadow  of  the  garden  behind  it,  with  a  primitive  line 

'  The  Long  Lane. 

*  A  kind  of  fig-tree,  resembling  the  banyan. 


2  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

that  seemed  to  date  it:  a  roof  over  each  gallery  and 
verandah,  a  roof  over  each  room,  receding  into  one 
long  outline  of  irregular  roofs.  At  the  front,  however, 
the  white  pillars  of  the  front-verandah  arose,  with  the 
white  pillars  of  the  portico,  tall,  bright  and  stately,  with 
wide  intervals,  with  a  large,  welcoming  spaciousness, 
with  an  expansive  and  imposing  entrance,  as  to  a 
palace.  Through  the  open  doors  the  central  gallery  was 
seen  in  dim  perspective,  running  through  to  the  back, 
lit  by  a  single  flickering  light. 

An  oppasser^  was  lighting  the  lanterns  beside  the 
house.  Semicircles  of  great  white  pots  with  roses  and 
chrysanthemums,  with  palms  and  caladiums,  curv^ed 
widely  in  front  of  the  house  to  right  and  left.  A  broad 
gravel-path  formed  the  drive  to  the  white-pillared 
portico;  next  came  a  wide,  parched  lawn,  surrounded 
by  flower-pots,  and,  in  the  middle,  on  a  carved  stone 
pedestal,  a  monumental  vase,  holding  a  tall  latania. 
The  only  fresh  green  was  that  of  the  meandering  pond, 
on  w^hich  floated  the  giant  leaves  of  a  Victoria  Regia, 
huddled  together  like  round  green  tea-trays,  with  here 
and  there  a  luminous  lotus-like  flower  between  them. 
A  path  wound  beside  the  pond ;  and  on  a  circular  space 
paved  with  pebbles  stood  a  tall  flag-stafif,  with  the  flag 
already  hauled  down,  as  at  six  o'clock  every  day.  A 
plain  gate  divided  the  grounds  from  the  Lange  Laan. 

The  vast  grounds  were  silent.  There  were  now 
burning,  slowly  and  laboriously  lit  by  the  lamp-boy,  one 
lamp  in  the  chandelier  in  the  front-verandah  and  one 
indoors  turned  low,  like  two  nightlights  in  a  palace 
which,  with  its  pillars  and  its  vanishing  perspective  of 
roofs,  was  somehow  reminiscent  of  a  child's  dream. 

*  Native  office-messenger. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  3 

On  the  steps  of  the  office  a  few  oppassers,  in  their  dark 
uniforms,  sat  talking  in  whispers.  One  of  them  stood 
up  after  a  while  and  walked,  with  a  quiet,  leisurely  step, 
to  a  bronze  bell  which  hung  high,  by  the  oppassers' 
lodge,  at  the  extreme  corner  of  the  grounds.  When  he 
had  reached  it  after  taking  about  a  hundred  paces,  he 
sounded  seven  slow,  reverberating  strokes.  The  clap- 
per struck  the  bell  with  a  brazen,  booming  note;  and 
each  stroke  was  prolonged  by  an  undulating  echo,  a 
deep,  thrilling  vibration  The  dogs  began  to  bark 
again.  The  oppasser,  boyishly  slender  in  his  blue  cloth 
jacket  with  yellow  facings  and  trousers  with  yellow 
stripes,  slowly  and  quietly,  with  his  supple  step,  re- 
traced his  hundred  paces  to  the  other  oppassers. 

The  light  was  now  lit  in  the  office  and  also  in  the 
adjoining  bedroom,  from  which  it  filtered  through  the 
Venetian  blinds.  The  resident,  a  tall,  heavy  man,  in  a 
black  jacket  and  white  duck  trousers,  walked  across  the 
room  and  called  to  the  man  outside: 

'Vppas!'" 

The  chief  oppasser,  in  his  cloth  uniform  jacket,  with 
the  wide  yellow  hems  to  its  skirts,  approached  with 
bended  knees  and  squatted  before  his  master. 

"Call  Miss  Doddie." 

"Miss  Doddie  is  out,  kandjeng,"^  whispered  the  man, 
while  with  his  two  hands,  the  fingers  placed  together, 
he  sketched  the  reverential  gesture  of  the  semha.^ 

"Where  has  she  gone  ?" 

"I  did  not  ask,  kandjeng,"  said  the  man,  by  way  of 
excuse  for  not  knowing,  again  with  his  sketchy  semha. 

^  Native  equivalent  of  the  Dutch  word  opasser. 

'  Excellency. 

*  Salaam. 


4  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

The  resident  reflected  for  a  moment.    Then  he  said : 

"My  cap.     My  stick." 

The  chief  oppasser,  still  bending  his  knees  as  though 
reverently  shrinking  into  himself,  scuttled  across  the 
room  and,  squatting,  presented  the  undress  uniform 
cap  and  a  walking-stick. 

The  resident  went  out.  The  chief  oppasser  hurried 
after  him,  with  a  tali-api  in  his  hand,  a  long,  slow- 
burning  wick,  of  which  he  waved  the  glowing  tip 
from  side  to  side  so  that  the  resident  might  be  seen 
by  any  one  passing  in  the  dark.  The  resident  walked 
slowly  through  the  garden  to  the  Lange  Laan.  Along 
this  lane,  an  avenue  of  tamarind-trees  and  flamboyants, 
lay  the  villas  of  the  more  important  townsfolk,  faintly 
lighted,  deathly  silent,  apparently  uninhabited,  with  the 
rows  of  whitewashed  flower-pots  gleaming  in  the 
vague  dusk  of  the  evening. 

The  resident  first  passed  the  secretary's  house:  then, 
on  the  other  side,  a  girls'  school;  then  the  notary's 
house,  an  hotel,  the  post-oflice  and  the  house  of  the 
president  of  the  Criminal  Court.  At  the  end  of  the 
Lange  Laan  stood  the  Catholic  church ;  and,  farther  on, 
across  the  river-bridge,  lay  the  railway-station.  Near 
the  station  was  a  large  European  toko,^  which  was 
more  brilliantly  lighted  than  the  other  buildings.  The 
moon  had  climbed  higher,  turning  a  brighter  silver  in 
its  ascent,  and  now  shone  down  upon  the  white  bridge, 
the  white  toko,  the  white  church,  all  standing  round  a 
square,  treeless  open  space,  in  the  middle  of  which  was 
a  Small  monument  with  a  pointed  spire,  the  town  clock. 

The  resident  met  nobody;  now  and  then,  however, 

an  occasional  Javanese,  like  a  moving  shadow,  appeared 
^  Bazaar,  store. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  5 

out  of  the  darlaiess ;  and  then  the  oppasser  waved  the 
glowing  point  of  his  match  with  great  ostentation  be- 
hind his  master.  As  a  rule,  the  Javanese  understood 
and  made  himself  small,  cowering  along  the  edge  of 
the  road  and  passing  with  a  scuttling  gait.  Now  and 
again,  an  ignorant  native,  just  arrived  from  his  dessa^ 
did  not  understand,  but  went  by,  looking  in  terror  at 
the  oppasser,  who  just  waved  his  match  and,  in  passing, 
sent  a  curse  after  the  fellow  behind  his  master's  back 
because  he,  the  dessa-Xoni,  had  no  manners.  When  a 
cart  approached  or  a  sado,-  he  waved  his  little  fiery  star 
again  and  again  through  the  darkness  and  made  signs 
to  the  driver,  who  either  stopped  and  alighted  or 
squatted  in  his  little  carriage  and,  so  squatting,  drove 
on  along  the  farther  side  of  the  road. 

The  resident  went  on  gloomily,  with  the  smart  step 
of  a  resolute  walker.  He  had  turned  off  to  the  right  of 
the  little  square  and  w^as  now  walking  past  the  Protes- 
tant church,  straight  toward  a  handsome  villa  adorned 
with  slender,  fairly  correct  Ionian  pillars  of  plaster  and 
brilliantly  lighted  with  paraffin-lamps  set  in  chandeliers. 
This  \vas  the  Concordia  Club.  A  couple  of  native  serv- 
ants in  white  jackets  sat  on  the  steps.  A  European  in  a 
white  suit,  the  steward,  passed  along  the  verandah. 
But  there  was  no  one  sitting  at  the  great  gin-and- 
bitters-table ;  and  the  wide  cane  chairs  opened  their  arms 
expectantly  but  in  vain. 

The  steward,  on  seeing  the  resident,  bowed ;  and  the 

resident  raised  his  finger  to  his  cap,  went  past  the  club 

and  turned  to  the  left.     He  walked  down  a  lane,  past 

dark  little  houses,  each  in  its  own  little  demesne,  turned 

^  Native  villagre. 

°  Dog-cart.    Sado  is  corrupted  from  dos-a-dos. 


6  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

off  again  and  walked  along  the  mouth  of  the  kali,^  which 
was  like  a  canal.  Proa  after  proa  lay  moored  to  the 
banks ;  the  monotonous  humming  of  Maduran  seamen 
crept  drearily  across  the  water,  from  which  rose  a 
smell  of  fish.  Past  the  harboui  -master's  office  the  resi- 
dent went  to  the  pier,  which  projected  some  way  into 
the  sea  and  at  the  end  of  which  a  small  light-house,  like 
a  miniature  Eiffel  tower,  uplifted  its  iron  form,  like  a 
candlestick  with  its  lamp  at  the  top.  Here  the  resident 
stopped  and  filled  his  lungs  with  the  night  air.  The 
wind  had  suddenly  freshened,  the  grongrong'  had  risen, 
blowing  in  from  the  offing,  as  it  did  daily  at  this 
hour.  But  sometimes  it  suddenly  dropped  again,  unex- 
pectedly, as  though  its  fanning  wings  had  been  stricken 
powerless;  and  the  roughened  sea  fell  again,  until  its 
curling,  foaming  breakers,  white  in  the  moonlight,  were 
smooth  rollers,  slightly  phosphorescent  in  long,  pale 
streaks. 

A  mournful  and  monotonous  rhythm  of  dreary  sing- 
ing approached  over  the  sea ;  a  sail  loomed  darkly,  like 
a  great  night-bird;  and  a  fishing-proa  with  a  high, 
curved  stem,  suggesting  an  ancient  galley,  glided  into 
the  channel.  A  melancholy  resignation  to  life,  an  ac- 
quiescence in  all  the  small,  obscure  things  of  earth  be- 
neath that  infinite  sky,  upon  that  sea  of  phosphorescent 
remoteness,  was  adrift  in  the  night,  conjuring  up  an 
oppressive  mystery.     .     .     . 

The  tall,  sturdy  man  who  stood  there,  with  straddling 
legs,  breathing  in  the  loitering,  fitful  wind,  tired  with 
his  work,  with  sitting  at  his  writing-table,  with  calcu- 
lating the  dniten-q\xt.si\on,  that  important  matter,  the 

*  River. 

'  North-east  wind. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  7 

abolition  of  the  didt^  for  which  the  governor-general 
had  made  him  personally  responsible:  this  tall,  sturdy 
man,  practical,  cool-headed,  quick  in  decision  from  the 
long  habit  of  authority,  was  perhaps  unconscious  of  the 
dark  mystery  that  drifted  over  the  native  town,  over 
the  capital  of  his  district,  in  the  night ;  but  he  was  con- 
scious of  a  longing  for  affection.  He  vaguely  felt  the 
longing  for  a  child's  arms  around  his  neck,  for  shrill 
little  voices  about  him,  the  longing  for  a  young  wife 
awaiting  him  with  a  smile.  He  did  not  give  definite 
expression  to  this  sentimentality  in  his  thoughts,  it  was 
not  his  custom  to  give  way  to  reflections  about  his 
personal  leanings :  he  was  too  busy,  his  days  w^re  too 
full  of  interests  of  all  kinds  for  him  to  yield  to  what  he 
knew  to  be  his  intervals  of  weakness,  the  suppressed 
ebullitions  of  his  younger  years.  But,  though  he  did  not 
reflect,  the  mood  upon  him  was  not  to  be  thrown  off,  it 
was  like  a  pressure  on  his  strong  chest,  like  a  morbid 
tenderness,  like  a  sentimental  discomifort  in  the  other- 
wise highly  practical  mind  of  this  superior  official,  who 
was  strongly  attached  to  his  sphere  of  work,  to  his 
territory,  who  had  its  interests  at  heart  and  in  whom 
the  almost  independent  power  of  his  post  harmonized 
entirely  with  his  authoritative  nature,  who  was  ac- 
customed with  his  strong  lungs  to  breathe  an  atmos- 
phere of  spacious  activity  and  extensive,  varied  work 
even  as  he  now  stood  breathing  the  spacious  wind  from 
the  sea. 

A  longing,  a  desire,  a  certain  nostalgia  filled  him 
more  than  usual  that  evening.   He  felt  lonely,  not  only 

^  The  dmt,  or  doit,  was  a  coin  of  the  Dutch  East  India  Com- 
pany, a  little  lower  in  value  than  the  cent,  of  which  latter  a 
hundred  go  to  the  guilder  or  florin  {\s.  8d.).  The  survival  of  the 
duit  complicated  the  official  accounts  considerably. 


8  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

because  of  the  isolation  which  nearly  always  surrounds 
the  head  of  a  native  government,  who  is  either  ap- 
proached conventionally,  with  smiling  respect,  for  pur- 
poses of  conversation,  or  curtly,  with  official  respect, 
for  purposes  of  business.  He  felt  lonely,  though  he 
was  the  father  of  a  family.  He  thought  of  his  big 
house,  he  thought  of  his  wife  and  children.  And  he 
felt  lonely  and  borne  up  merely  by  the  interest  which 
he  took  in  his  work.  That  was  the  one  thing  in  his  life. 
It  filled  all  his  w^aking  hours.  He  fell  asleep  thinking 
of  it:  and  his  first  thought  in  the  morning  was  of  some 
district  interest. 

At  this  moment,  tired  with  casting  up  figures,  breath- 
ing the  wind,  he  inhaled  together  with  the  coolness  of 
the  sea  its  melancholy,  the  mysterious  melancholy  of 
the  Indian  seas,  the  haunting  melancholy  of  the  seas 
of  Java,  the  melancholy  that  rushes  in  from  afar  on 
whispering,  mysterious  wings.  But  it  was  not  his  na- 
ture to  yield  to  mystery.  He  denied  mystery.  It  wa<^ 
not  there:  there  v/as  only  the  sea  and  the  cool  wind. 
There  was  only  the  fragrance  of  that  sea,  a  blend  of 
fish  and  flowers  and  seaweed,  a  fragrance  which  the 
cool  wind  was  blowing  away.  There  was  only  the 
moment  of  respiration;  and  such  mysterious  melan- 
choly as  he  nevertheless,  irresistibly,  felt  stealing  that 
evening  through  his  somewhat  slack  mood  he  believed 
to  be  connected  with  his  domestic  circle:  he  would 
have  liked  to  feel  that  this  circle  was  a  little  more  com- 
pact, fitting  more  closely  around  the  father  and  husband 
in  him.  If  there  was  any  melancholy  at  all,  it  was  that. 
It  did  not  come  from  the  sea,  nor  from  the  distant  sky. 
He  refused  to  yield  to  any  sudden  sensation  of  the 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  9 

marvelous.  And  he  set  his  feet  more  firmly,  flung  out 
his  chest,  lifted  his  fine,  soldierly  head  and  sniffer  up 
the  sea's  fragrance  and  the  wind.     .     .     . 

The  chief  op  passer,  squatting  with  his  glowing  match 
in  his  hand,  peeped  attentively  at  his  master,  as  though 
thinking:      "How  strange,  those  Hollanders! 
.     .     What  is  he  thinking  now  ?     .     .     .     .     Why  is 
he  behaving  like  this?     ....     Just  at  this  time 
and  on  this  spot     ....     The  sea-spirits  are  about 
now     ....     There  are  caymans  under  the  water 
and  every  cayman  is  a  spirit     ....     Look,  they 
have  been  sacrificing  to  them  there:    pisang^  and  rice 
and  deng-deng-  and  a  hard-boiled  egg  on  a  little  bam- 
boo raft,  down  by  the  foot  of  the  light-house 
What  is  the  kandjeng  tuan^  doing  here  ? 
It  is  not  good  here,  it  is  not  good  here,  tjelaka, 
tjclaka!*     ..,.'* 

And  his  watching  eyes  glided  up  and  down  the  back 
of  his  master,  who  simply  stood  and  gazed  into  the  dis- 
tance: What  was  he  gazing  at?  ...  .  What 
did  he  see  blowing  up  in  the  wind  ?  .  .  .  .  How 
strange,  those  Hollanders,  how  strange!     .... 

The  resident  turned,  suddenly,  and  walked  back ;  and 

the  oppasser,  starting  up,  followed  him,  blowing  on  the 

tip  of  his  match.    The  resident  walked  back  by  the  same 

road ;  there  was  now  a  member  sitting  in  the  club,  who 

greeted  him ;  and  a  couple  of  young  men  w^ere  strolling 

in  the  Lange  Laan.    The  dogs  were  barking. 

^  Bananas. 

'  Pieces  of  meat  dried  in  the  sun, 
'  Excellency  Sahib. 
•Woe,  woe  r 


*"\ 


10  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

When  the  resident  approached  the  entrance  to  the 
residency,  he  saw  at  the  front,  at  the  other  entrance, 
two  white  figures,  a  man  and  a  girl,  who  vanished  into 
the  darkness  under  the  waringins.  He  went  straight 
to  his  office:  another  oppasser  came  up  and  took  his 
cap  and  stick.  Then  he  sat  down  at  his  writing-table. 
He  had  time  for  an  hour's  work  before  dinner. 


CHAPTER  II 

Several  lights  were  burning.  Really  the  lamps  had 
been  lit  everywhere ;  but  in  the  long,  broad  galleries  it 
was  only  just  light.  In  the  grounds  and  inside  the 
house  there  were  certainly  no  fewer  than  twenty  or 
thirty  paraffin-lamps  burning  in  chandeliers  and  lan- 
terns; but  they  gave  no  more  than  a  vague,  yellow 
twilight  glimmering  through  the  house.  A  stream  of 
moonshine  floated  over  the  garden,  making  the  flower- 
pots gleam  brightly  and  shimmering  in  the  pond ;  and 
the  waringins  were  like  soft  velvet  against  the  luminous 
sky. 

The  first  gong  had  sounded  for  dinner.  In  the  front- 
verandah  a  young  man  was  swinging  up  and  down  in  a 
rocking-chair,  with  his  hands  behind  his  head.  He  was 
bored.  A  young  girl  came  along  the  middle  gallery, 
humming  to  herself,  as  though  in  expectation.  The 
house  was  furnished  in  accordance  with  the  conven- 
tional type  of  up-country  residencies,  with  common- 
place splendour.  The  marble  floor  of  the  verandah  was 
white  and  glossy  as  a  mirror ;  tall  palms  stood  in  pots 
between  the  pillars;  groups  of  rocking-chairs  stood 
round  marble  tables.  In  the  first  inner  gallery,  which 
ran  parallel  with  the  verandah,  chairs  were  drawn  up 
against  the  wall  as  though  in  readiness  for  an  eternal 
reception.  The  second  inner  gallery,  which  ran  from 
front  to  back,  showed  at  the  end,  where  It  opened  into 
a  cross-gallery,  a  huge  red  satin  curtain  falling  from  a 
gilt  cornice.    In  the  white  spaces  between  the  doors  of 


12  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

the  rooms  hung  either  mirrors  in  gilt  frames,  resting 
on  marble  console-tables,  or  lithographs — pictures  as 
they  call  them  in  India — of  Van  Dyck  on  horseback, 
Paul  Veronese  received  by  a  doge  on  the  steps  of  a 
Venetian  palace,  Shakspeare  at  the  court  of  Elizabeth 
and  Tasso  at  the  court  of  Este ;  but  in  the  biggest  space, 
in  a  crowned  frame,  hung  a  large  etching,  a  portrait  of 
Queen  Wilhelmina  In  her  coronation-robes.  In  the 
middle  of  the  central  gallery  was  a  red  satin  ottoman, 
topped  by  a  palm.  Furthermore  many  chairs  and  tables ; 
every-where  great  chandeliers.  Everjrthlng  was  very 
neatly  kept  and  distinguished  by  a  commonplace  pomp, 
an  uncomfortable  readiness  for  the  next  reception,  with 
not  a  single  home-like  corner.  In  the  half-light  of  the 
paraffin-lamps — one  lamp  was  lit  In  each  chandelier — 
the  long,  wide,  spacious  galleries  stretched  in  tedious 
vacancy. 

The  second  gong  sounded.  In  the  back-verandah 
the  long  table — too  long,  as  though  always  expecting 
guests — was  laid  for  three  persons.  The  spen^  and 
half-a-dozen  boys  stood  waiting  by  the  servers*  tables 
and  the  two  sideboards.  The  spen  at  once  began  to  fill 
the  soup-plates;  and  two  of  the  boys  placed  the  three 
plates  of  soup  on  the  table,  on  the  top  of  the  folded  nap- 
kins which  lay  on  the  dinner-plates.  Then  they  waited 
again,  while  the  soup  steamed  gently.  Another  boy 
filled  the  three  tumblers  with  large  lumps  of  ice. 

The  girl  came  In,  humming  a  tune.  She  might  be 
seventeen  and  resembled  her  divorced  mother,  the  resi- 
dent's first  wife,  a  good-looking  nonna,^  who  was  now 
living  In  Batavia,  where  she  was  said  to  keep  a  quiet 

^  Butler. 

*  Daughter  of  a  European  father  and  a  native  mother. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  13 

gaming-house.  The  young  girl  had  a  pale  olive  com- 
plexion, sometimes  just  touched  with  a  peach-like  blush : 
she  had  beautiful  black  hair,  curling  naturally  at  the 
temples  and  fastened  in  a  very  heavy  coil;  her  black 
pupils  with  the  sparkling  irises  floated  in  a  moist  blue- 
white  over  which  her  thick  lashes  flickered  up  and 
down,  down  and  up.  Her  mouth  was  small  and  a  little 
full ;  and  her  upper  lip  was  just  shadowed  with  a  dark 
line  of  down.  She  w^as  not  tall  and  was  already  too 
fully  formed,  like  a  hasty  rose  that  has  bloomed  too 
soon.  She  wore  a  white  pique  skirt  and  a  white  linen 
blouse  with  lace  insertions ;  and  round  her  throat  was  a 
bright  yellow  ribbon  that  accorded  well  with  her  olive 
pallor,  which  sometimes  flushed  up,  suddenly,  as  with  a 
rush  of  warm  blood. 

The  young  man  came  sauntering  in  from  the  front- 
verandah.  He  was  like  his  father,  tall,  broad  and  fair- 
haired,  with  a  thick,  fair  moustache.  He  was  barely 
twenty-three,  but  looked  quite  five  years  older.  He 
wore  a  suit  of  white  Russian  linen,  but  with  a  shirt- 
collar  and  tie. 

Van  Oudijck  also  came  at  last:  his  determined  step 
approached  as  if  he  were  always  busy,  as  if  he  were 
coming  just  to  have  some  dinner  in  between  his  work. 

"When  does  mamma  arrive  to-morrow?"  asked 
Theo. 

"At  half-past  eleven,"  replied  Van  Oudijck;  and 
turning  to  his  body-servant  behind  him,  "Kario,  re- 
member that  the  njonja  besar^  is  to  be  fetched  at  the 
station  at  half-past  eleven  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  kandjcng,"  murmured  Kario. 

The  fish  was  served. 

*  Great  lady,  great  mcm-sahib. 


14  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"Doddie,"  asked  Van  Oudijck,  "who  was  with  you 
at  the  gate  just  now?" 

"At  .  .  .  the  gate?"  she  asked  slowly,  with  a 
very  soft  burr. 

"Yes." 

"At  ...  the  gate?  .  .  ,  Nobody.  . 
Theo  perhaps." 

"Were  you  at  the  gate  with  your  sister  ?"  asked  Van 
Oudijck. 

The  boy  knitted  his  thick,  fair  eyebrows: 

"Possibly  .  .  .  don't  know  .  .  .  Don't 
remember.     .     .     ." 

They  were  all  three  silent.  They  hurried  through  din- 
ner: sitting  at  table  bored  them.  The  five  or  six  ser- 
vants, in  white  haadjes^  with  red  linen  facings,  moved 
softly  on  their  flat  toes,  waiting  quickly  and  noiselessly. 
Steak  and  salad  was  served,  a  pudding,  followed  by 
dessert. 

"Everlasting  rumpsteak !"    Theo  muttered. 

"Yes,  that  kokkie!^"  laughed  Doddie,  with  her  little 
throaty  laugh.  "She  always  gives  steak,  when  mamma 
not  here ;  doesn't  matter  to  her,  when  mamma  not  here. 
She  has  no  imagination.    Too  bad  though !"' 

They  had  been  twenty  minutes  over  their  dinner 
when  Van  Oudijck  went  back  to  his  office.  Doddie  and 
Theo  sauntered  towards  the  front  of  the  house. 

"Tedious,"  Doddie  yawned.  "Come,  we  play  bil- 
liards?" 

In  the  first  inner  gallery,  behind  the  satin  hanging, 

was  a  small  billiard-table. 

*  Sleeved  jackets  of  white  or  lilac  striped  cotton. 
^  Cook. 

®  These  clipped  sentences  may  be  taken  to  represent  the  DutcH 
spoken  by  the  half-castes  in  Java. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  15 

"Come  along,"  said  Theo. 

They  played. 

"Why  am  I  supposed  to  have  been  with  you  at  the 
gate?" 

"Oh     .      .      .     tut!"  said  Doddie. 

"Well,  why?" 

"Papa  needn't  know." 

"Who  was  with  you?    Addle?" 

"Of  course !"  said  Doddie,  "Say,  band  playing  to- 
night?" 

"I  think  so." 

"Come,  we  go,  yes  ?" 

"No,  I  don't  care  to." 

"Oh,  why  not?" 

"I  don't  want  to." 

"Come  along  now?" 

"No." 

"With  mamma  .  .  .  you  would,  yes?"  said 
Doddie,  angrily.  "I  know  very  well.  With  mamma 
you  go  always  to  the  band." 

"What  do  you  know     .     .     .     you  little  minx !" 

"What  do  i  know?"  she  laughed.  "What  do  I  know? 
I  know  what  I  know." 

"Hoo!"  he  said,  to  tease  her,  fluking  a  cannon. 
"YouandAddie,hoo!" 

"Well     .     .     .     and  vou  and  mamma !" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders: 

"You're  mad." 

"No  need  to  hide  from  me.    Besides,  every  one  says." 

"Let  them  say." 

"Too  bad  of  you  though !" 

"Oh,  go  to  the  devil!" 


16  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

He  flung  his  cue  down  in  a  temper  and  went  towards 
the  front  of  the  house.    She  followed  him : 

"I  say,  Theo  .  .  .  don't  be  angry  now.  Come 
along  to  the  band." 

"No." 

"I'll  never  say  it  again,"  she  entreated,  coaxingly. 

She  was  afraid  that  he  would  continue  to  be  angry 
and  then  she  would  have  nothing  and  nobody,  then  she 
would  die  of  boredom. 

"I  promised  Addie  and  I  can't  go  by  myself.      .      . " 

"Well,  if  you  won't  make  any  more  of  those  idiotic 

remarks     .     .     ." 

"Yes,  I  promise.     Theo  dear,  yes,  come  then. 
»» 

She  was  already  in  the  garden. 

Van  Oudijck  appeared  on-  the  threshold  of  his  office, 
which  always  had  the  door  open,  but  which  was  sepa- 
rated from  the  inner  gallery  by  a  large  screen. 

"Doddie !"  he  called  out. 

"Yes,  papa?" 

"Will  you  see  that  there  are  flowers  In  mamma's  room 
to-morrow?" 

His  voice  was  almost  embarrassed  and  his  eyes 
blinked. 

"Very  well,  papa    .      .     .     I'll  see  to  it." 

"Where  are  you  going  to  ?" 

"With  Theo     .     .     .     to  the  band." 

Van  Oudijck  became  red  and  angry: 

"To  the  band  ?  But  you  might  have  asked  my  leave 
first !"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  sudden  rage. 

Doddie  pouted. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  17 

"I  don't  like  you  to  go  out,  without  my  knowing 
where  you  go.  You  were  out  this  afternoon  too,  when 
I  wanted  you  to  come  for  a  walk  with  me." 

"Well,  sitdaJi^  then!"  said  Doddie,  bursting  into 
tears. 

"You  can  go  if  you  want  to,*'  said  Van  Oudijck, 
"but  I  insist  on  your  asking  me  first." 

"No,  I  don't  care  about  it  now,"  said  Doddie,  in 
tears.    "Sudah!    No  band." 

They  could  hear  the  first  strains  in  the  distance,  com- 
ing from  the  Concordia  garden. 

Van  Oudijck  returned  to  his  office.  Doddie  and 
Theo  flung  themselves  into  two  rocking-chairs  in  the 
A'erandah  and  swung  furiously  to  and  fro,  skating  with 
the  chairs  over  the  smooth  marble. 

"Come,"  said  Theo,  "let's  go.    Addie  expects  you." 

"No,"  she  pouted.  "Don't  care.  I'll  tell  Addie  to- 
morrow papa  so  unkind.  He  spoils  my  pleasure.  And 
.     .     .     I'll  put  no  flowers  in  mamma's  room." 

Theo  grinned. 

"Say,"  whispered  Doddie,  "that  papa  .  .  .  eh  ? 
So  in  love,  always.  He  was  blushing  when  he  asked  me 
about  the  flowers." 

Theo  grinned  once  more  and  hummed  in  unison  with 
the  band  In  the  distance. 

^  "It  doesn't  matter.** 


CHAPTER  III 

Next  morning  Theo  went  in  the  landau  to  fetch  his 
stepmother  from  the  station  at  half -past  eleven. 

Van  Oudijck,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  the 
police-cases  at  that  hour,  had  made  no  suggestion  to 
his  son ;  but,  when  from  his  office  he  saw  Theo  step  into 
the  carriage  and  drive  off,  he  thought  it  nice  of  the 
boy.  He  had  idolized  Theo  as  a  child,  had  spoilt  him 
as  a  lad,  had  often  come  into  conflict  with  him  as  a 
young  man;  but  the  old  paternal  fondness  still  often 
flickered  up  in  him,  irresistibly.  At  this  moment  he 
loved  his  son  better  than  Doddie,  who  had  main- 
tained her  sulky  attitude  that  morning  and  had  put  no 
flowers  in  his  wife's  room,  so  that  he  had  ordered  Kario 
to  see  to  them.  He  now  felt  sorry  that  he  had  not  said 
a  kind  word  to  Theo  for  some  days  and  he  resolved 
really  to  do  so  again  at  once.  The  boy  was  scatter- 
brained: in  three  years  he  had  been  employed  on  at 
least  five  different  coffee-plantations ;  now  he  was  once 
more  without  a  berth  and  was  hanging  around  at  home, 
looking  out  for  something  else. 

Theo  had  not  long  to  wait  at  the  station  before  the 
train  arrived.  He  at  once  saw  Mrs.  van  Oudijck  and 
the  two  little  boys,  Rene  and  Ricus — two  little  sinjos,^ 
contrasted  with  himself — whom  she  was  bringing  back 
from  Batavia  for  the  long  holidays,  and  her  maid, 
Oorip. 

Theo  helped  his  stepmother  to  alight;  the  station- 
master  offered  a  respectful  greeting  to  the  wife  of  his 

*  Sons  of  a  European  father  and  a  native  mother. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  19 

resident.  She  nodded  in  return,  with  her  queenly  smile. 
Still  smiling,  a  trifle  ambiguously,  she  allowed  her  step- 
son to  kiss  her  on  the  cheek.  She  was  a  tall  woman, 
with  a  fair  complexion  and  fair  hair;  she  had  turned 
thirty  and  possessed  the  languid  dignity  of  women  born 
in  Java,  daughters  of  European  parents  on  both  sides. 
She  had  something  that  attracted  attention  at  once.  It 
was  because  of  her  white  skin,  her  creamy  complexion, 
her  very  light  fair  hair,  her  strange  grey  eyes,  which 
were  somtimes  a  little  pinched  and  always  wore  an 
ambiguous  expression.  It  was  because  of  her  eternal 
smile,  sometimes  very  sweet  and  charming  and  often 
insufferable  and  tiresome.  One  could  never  tell  at  the 
first  sight  of  her  whether  she  concealed  anything  be- 
hind that  glance,  whether  there  was  any  depth,  any  soul 
behind  it,  or  whether  it  was  merely  a  matter  of  looking 
and  laughing,  both  with  that  slight  ambiguity.  Soon, 
however,  one  perceived  an  observant  indifference  in 
her  smiles,  as  though  there  were  very  little  that  she 
cared  for,  as  though  it  would  hardly  matter  to  her 
should  the  heavens  fall,  as  though  she  would  watch  the 
event  with  a  smile. 

Her  gait  was  leisurely.  She  wore  a  pink  pique  skirt 
and  bolero,  a  white  satin  ribbon  round  her  waist  and  a 
white  sailor-hat  with  a  white  satin  bow ;  and  her  sum- 
mer travelling-costume  was  very  smart,  compared  with 
that  of  a  couple  of  other  ladies  on  the  platform,  loung- 
ing in  stiffly  starched  washing-frocks  that  looked  like 
night-dresses,  Avith  tulle  hats  topped  with  feathers! 
And,  in  her  very  European  aspect,  perhaps  that  leisure- 
ly walk,  that  languid  dignity  was  the  only  Indian^  char- 

*  By  India  the  Dutch  mean  the  Dutch  East  Indies  and  mainly 
Java. 


20  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

acteristic  that  distinguished  her  from  a  woman  newly 
arrived  from  Holland. 

Theo  had  given  her  his  arm  and  she  let  him  lead  her 
to  the  carriage,  the  "chariot,"  followed  by  the  two  dark 
little  brothers.  She  had  been  away  two  months.  She 
had  a  nod  and  a  smile  for  the  station-master ;  she  had 
a  nod  for  the  coachman  and  the  groom;  and  she  took 
her  seat  slowly,  a  languid,  white  sultana,  still  smiling. 
The  three  step-sons  followed  her  into  the  carriage :  the 
maid  rode  behind  in  a  dog-cart.  Mrs.  van  Oudijck 
looked  out  once  or  twice  and  thought  Labuwangi  un- 
changed. But  she  said  nothing.  She  drew  herself  in 
again  slowly  and  leant  back.  Her  face  displayed  a 
certain  satisfaction,  but  especially  that  radiant,  laugh- 
ing indifference,  as  though  nothing  could  harm  her, 
as  though  she  were  protected  by  a  mysterious  force. 
There  was  something  strong  about  this  woman,  some- 
thing powerful  in  her  sheer  indifference:  there  was 
something  invulnerable  about  her.  She  looked  as 
though  life  would  have  no  hold  on  her,  neither  on  her 
complexion  nor  on  her  soul.  She  looked  as  though  she 
were  incapable  of  suffering;  and  it  seemed  as  though 
she  smiled  and  were  thus  contented  because  no  sick- 
ness, no  suffering,  no  poverty,  no  misery  existed  for 
her.  An  irradiation  of  glittering  egoism  encompassed 
her.  And  yet  she  was,  for  the  most  part,  lovable.  She 
was  charming  and  prepossessing  because  she  was  so 
pretty.  This  woman,  with  her  sparkling  self-satisfac- 
tion, was  loved,  whatever  people  might  say  about  her. 
When  she  spoke,  when  she  laughed,  she  was  disarming 
and,  even  more,  engaging.  This  was  despite  and,  per- 
haps, just  because  of  her  unfathomable  indifference. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  21 

She  took  an  interest  only  in  her  own  body  and  her  own 
soul:  all  the  rest,  all  the  rest  was  totally  indifferent  to 
her.  Unable  to  give  anything  of  her  soul,  she  had 
never  felt  anything  save  for  herself ;  but  she  smiled  so 
peacefully  and  enchantingly  that  she  was  always 
thought  lovable,  adorable.  It  was  perhaps  because  of 
the  contour  of  her  cheeks,  the  strange  ambiguity  in  her 
glance,  her  ineffaceable  smile,  the  elegance  of  her 
figure,  the  tone  of  her  voice  and  her  knack  of  always 
hitting  on  the  right  word.  If  at  first  one  thought  her 
insufferable,  she  did  not  notice  it  and  simply  made  her- 
self absolutely  charming.  If  any  one  was  jealous,  she 
did  not  notice  it  and  just  praised  intuitively,  in- 
differently— for  she  did  not  care  in  the  least — some- 
thing in  which  that  other  had  thought  herself  de- 
ficient. She  could  admire  with  the  sweetest  expression 
on  her  face  a  dress  which  she  thought  hideous;  and, 
because  she  was  so  completely  indifferent,  she  betrayed 
no  insincerity  afterwards  and  did  not  gainsay  her  admi- 
ration. Her  vital  power  was  her  unbounded  indiffer- 
ence. She  had  accustomed  herself  to  do  everything 
that  she  felt  inclined  to  do,  but  she  smiled  as  she  did  it ; 
and,  however  people  might  talk  behind  her  back,  she 
remained  so  correct  in  her  behaviour,  so  bewitching, 
that  they  forgave  her.  She  was  not  loved  while  she  was 
not  seen ;  but,  so  soon  as  people  saw  her,  she  had  won 
back  all  that  she  had  lost.  Her  husband  worshipped  her ; 
her  step-children — she  had  no  children  of  her  ovm — 
could  not  help  being  fond  of  her,  involuntarily;  her 
sen'ants  were  all  under  the  influence  of  her  charm. 
She  never  grumbled:  she  gave  an  order  with  a  word 
and  the  thing  was  done.    If  something  were  wrong,  if 


22  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

something  was  broken,  her  smile  died  away  for  a  mo- 
ment .  .  .  and  that  was  all.  And,  if  her  own 
moral  or  physical  interests  were  in  danger,  she  was 
generally  able  to  avoid  the  danger  and  settle  things 
to  her  advantage,  without  even  allowing  her  smile  to 
fade.  But  she  had  gathered  this  personal  interest  so 
closely  about  her  that  she  could  usually  control  its  cir- 
cumstances. No  destiny  seemed  to  weigh  upon  this 
woman.  Her  indifference  was  radiant,  was  absolutely 
indifferent,  devoid  of  contempt,  or  envy,  or  emotion: 
it  was  merely  indifference.  And  the  tact  with  which 
instinctively,  without  ever,  giving  much  thought  to  it, 
she  guided  and  ruled  her  life  was  so  great  that  possibly 
if  she  had  lost  everything  that  she  now  possessed — ^her 
beauty,  her  position,  for  instance — she  would  still  be 
able  to  remain  indifferent,  in  her  incapacity  for  suffer- 
ing. 

The  carriage  drove  into  the  residency-grounds  just  as 
the  police-cases  were  beginning.  The  Javanese  magis- 
trate, the  chief  djaksa,  was  already  with  Van  Oudijck 
in  the  office ;  the  djaksa  and  the  poUce-op passers  led  the 
procession  of  the  accused:  the  natives  tripped  along, 
holding  one  another  by  a  comer  of  their  haadjcs;  but 
the  few  women  among  them  walked  alone.  They  all 
squatted  in  waiting  under  a  waringin-tree,  at  a  short 
distance  from  the  steps  of  the  office.  An  oppasscr, 
hearing  the  clock  in  the  verandah,  struck  half-past 
twelve  on  the  great  bell  by  the  lodge.  The  loud  stroke 
reverberated  like  a  brazen  voice  through  the  scorching 
mid-day  heat.  But  Van  Oudijck  had  heard  the  sound 
of  the  carriage- wheels  and  let  the  chief  djaksa  wait: 
he  went  to  welcome  his  wife.    His  face  brightened:  he 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  23 

kissed  her  tenderl}^  effusively,  asked  how  she  was.  He 
was  glad  to  see  the  boys  back.  And,  remembering  what 
he  had  been  thinking  about  Theo,  he  found  a  kind  word 
for  his  first-born.  Doddie,  still  wearing  her  full  little 
sulking  mouth,  kissed  mamma.  Mrs.  van  Oudijck 
allowed  herself  to  be  kissed,^  resignedly,  smilingly;  she 
returned  the  kisses  calmly,  without  coldness  or  warmth, 
just  doing  what  she  had  to  do.  Her  husband,  Theo  and 
Doddie  admired  her  perceptibly  and  audibly,  said  that 
she  was  looking  well;  Doddie  asked  where  mamma 
had  got  that  pretty  travelling-dress.  In  her  room  she 
noticed  the  flowers  and,  as  she  knew  that  Van  Oudijck 
always  saw  to  these,  she  gently  stroked  his  arm. 

The  resident  went  back  to  his  office,  where  the  chief 
djaksa  was  waiting ;  the  hearing  began.  Pushed  along 
by  a  "^oWct-oppasser,  the  accused  came  one  by  one  and 
squatted  on  the  steps,  outside  the  office-door,  while  the 
djaksa  squatted  on  a  mat  and  the  resident  sat  at  his 
writing-table.  During  the  first  case,  Van  Oudijck  was 
still  listening  to  his  wife's  voice  in  the  middle  gallery, 
when  the  prisoner  defended  himself  with  a  cry  of: 

"Bot'n!    Bot'nr" 

The  resident  knitted  his  brows  and  listened  attentive- 
ly.    .     .     . 

The  voices  in  the  middle  gallery  ceased.  Mrs.  van 
Oudijck  had  gone  to  take  off  her  things  and  to  put  on 
sarong  and  kahaar  for  lunch.  She  wore  the  dress 
gracefully:  a  Solo  sarong,  a  transparent  kahaai,  jew- 

*"No!    No!" 

^Tlic  sarong  is  the  native  skirt ;  the  kahaai.  or  kabaj'a,  is  a  long- 
native  jacket,  generally  white,  with  embroidery,  when  worn  by 
Dutch  ladies.  The  two  until  lately  formed  the  usual  indoor  dress 
of  Dutch  women  in  Java  until  they  changed  for  dinner;  but  of 
recent  years  it  has  gone  out  of  date. 


24  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

elled  pins ;  white  leather  slippers  with  a  little  white  bow. 
She  was  just  ready  when  Doddie  came  to  her  door  and 
said: 

"Mamma!  Mamma!  .  ,  .  Mrs.  van  Does  is 
here!" 

The  smile  died  away  for  a  moment;  the  soft  eyes 
looked  dark. 

"I'll  come  at  once,  dear     .     .     ." 

But  she  sat  down  instead ;  Oorip,  the  maid,  sprinkled 
some  scent  on  her  handkerchief.  Mrs.  van  Oudijck 
put  up  her  feet  and  lay  musing,  after  the  fatigue  of  her 
journey.  She  found  Labuwangi  desperately  dull  after 
Batavia,  where  she  had  spent  two  months  staying  with 
relations  and  friends,  free  and  unencumbered  by  obli- 
gations. Here,  as  the  wife  of  the  resident,  she  had 
certain  duties,  though  she  delegated  most  of  them  to  the 
secretary's  wife.  She  felt  tired  in  herself,  out  of  sorts, 
dissatisfied.  Despite  her  complete  indifference,  she  was 
human  enough  to  have  her  silent  moods,  in  which  she 
wished  everything  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  At  one 
time  she  suddenly  longed  to  do  something  mad,  at  an- 
other she  vaguely  longed  for  Paris.  .  .  .  She  would 
never  let  any  one  see  all  this.  She  was  able  to  control 
herself ;  and  she  controlled  herself  now,  before  making 
her  reappearance.  Her  vague  Bacchantic  longings 
melted  away  in  her  fatigue.  She  stretched  herself  out 
at  greater  ease.  She  mused,  with  eyes  almost  closed. 
Through  her  almost  superhuman  indifference  a  curious 
fancy  sometimes  crept,  hidden  from  the  world.  She 
preferred  to  live  in  her  bedroom  her  life  of  perfumed 
imagination,  especially  after  her  month  in  Batavia. 
After  one  of  those  months  of  perversity,  she  felt  a  need 
to  let  her  vagrant,  rosy  imaginings  rise  like  a  curling 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  25 

mist  before  her  half -closed  eyes.  There  was  in  her 
otherwise  utterly  barren  soul  as  it  were  an  unnatural 
growth  of  little  azure  flowers,  which  she  cherished  with 
the  only  feeling  that  she  could  ever  experience.  She 
felt  for  no  living  creature,  but  she  felt  for  those  little 
flowers.  It  was  delicious  to  dream  Hke  this  of  what  she 
would  have  liked  to  be  if  she  were  not  compelled  to  be 
what  she  was.  Her  fancies  rose  in  a  whirling  mist: 
she  saw  a  white  palace,  with  cupids  everywhere.    .    .    . 

"Mamma  ...  do  come!  Mrs.  van  Does  is 
here,  Mrs.  van  Does,  with  two  jam-pots. 

It  was  Doddie,  at  the  door.  Leonie  van  Oudijck 
stood  up  and  went  to  the  back-verandah,  where  the 
Indian  lady  was  sitting,  the  wife  of  the  postmaster. 
She  kept  cows  and  sold  milk.  But  she  also  drove  other 
trades.  She  was  a  stout  woman,  rather  dark-skinned, 
with  a  prominent  stomach ;  she  wore  a  very  simple  little 
kahaai  with  a  narrow  band  of  lace  round  it ;  and  she  sat 
stroking  her  stomach  with  her  two  hands.  In  front  of 
her,  on  the  table,  stood  two  small  jam-pots,  with  some- 
thing glittering  in  them.  What  was  it,  Mrs.  van 
Oudijck  wondered:  sugar,  crystals?  Then  she  sud- 
denly remembered. 

Mrs.  van  Does  said  that  she  was  glad  to  see  her  again. 
Two  months  away  from  Labuwangi.  Too  bad,  Mrs. 
van  Oudijck !  And  she  pointed  to  the  jam-pots.  Mrs. 
van  Oudijck  smiled.    What  was  inside  them  ? 

With  a  great  air  of  mystery,  Mrs.  van  Does  laid  a 
fat,  double- jointed  forefinger  on  one  of  the  jam-pots 
and  said: 


26  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

''Inten-inten!"'^ 

"Oh,  really?"  said  Mrs.  van  Oudijck. 

Doddie,  wide-eyed,  and  Theo,  greatly  amused, 
stared  at  the  jam-pots. 

"Yes  .  .  .  you  know  .  .  .  that  lady's,  of 
whom  I  spoke  to  you.  .  .  .  She  doesn't  w^ant  her 
name  mentioned.  Kassian,"  her  husband  once  a  great 
swell  .  .  .  and  now  .  .  .  yes,  so  unfortu- 
nate; she  has  nothing  left!  All  gone.  Only  these  two 
little  jam-pots.  Had  all  her  jewels  unset  and  keeps  the 
stones  in  the  jam-pots.  All  counted.  She  trusts  them 
to  me  to  sell.  Know  her  through  my  milk-business. 
Will  you  look  at,  Mrs.  van  Oudijck,  yes?  Lovely 
stones!  The  residm  he  buy  for  you,  now  you  back 
home,  again.  Doddie,  give  me  a  bit  of  black  stuff: 
velvet  best.     .     .     ." 

Doddie  sent  the  djaif  to  fetch  a  bit  of  black  velvet 
from  a  cupboard  of  odds  and  ends.  A  boy  brought 
glasses  with  tamarind-syrup  and  ice.  Mrs,  van  Does, 
holding  a  little  pair  of  tongs  in  her  double- jointed 
fingers  laid  a  couple  of  stones  carefully  on  the  velvet: 

"Ah!"  she  cried.  "Look  at  that  water,  mevrouw!* 
Ser-per-len-did !" 

Mrs.  van  Oudijck  looked  on.  She  gave  her  most 
charming  smile  and  then  said,  In  her  gentle  voice: 

"That  stone  is  not  real,  dear  mevrouw." 

"Not  real  ?"  screamed  Mrs.  van  Does.    "Not  real  ?" 

Mrs.  van  Oudijck  looked  at  the  other  stones: 

"And  those  others,  mevrouw,"  stooping  attentively; 

*  Diamonds. 

"^  "Poor  thing." 

*  Seamstress. 

*  Madam. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  27 

then,  in  her  most  charming  tones,  "those  others  .  .  . 
are  not  real  either." 

Mrs.  van  Does  looked  at  her  with  delight.  Then 
she  said  to  Doddie  and  Theo,  archly; 

"That  mamma  of  yours  .  .  .  pintcr!^  She  sees 
at  once !" 

And  she  laughed  aloud.  They  all  laughed.  Mrs. 
van  Does  replaced  the  crystals  In  the  jam-pot: 

"A  joke,  yes,  mevrouw?  I  only  wanted  to  see  if 
you  understood.  Of  course  you'll  take  my  word  for 
it:  I  should  never  sell.  .  .  .  But  there  .  .  . 
look!     .     .     ." 

And  now  solemnly,  almost  religiously,  she  opened 
the  other  little  jam-pot,  which  contained  only  a  few 
stones,  and  placed  them  lovingly  on  the  black  velvet. 

"That  one  would  be  splendid  .  .  .  for  a  Icon- 
tinc,"'  said  Mrs.  van  Oudijck,  gazing  at  a  very  large 
brilliant. 

"There,  what  did  I  tell  you?"  said  the  Indian  lady. 

And  they  all  gazed  at  the  diamonds,  at  the  real  ones, 
which  came  out  of  the  "real"  jam-pot,  and  held  them 
up  carefully  to  the  light. 

Mrs.  van  Oudijck  saw  that  they  were  all  real: 

"I  really  have  no  money,  dear  mevrouw !"  she  said. 

"This  big  one  .  .  .  for  a  Icontine  .  .  . 
six  hundred  guilders.^  ...  A  bargain,  I  assure 
you,  mevrouw!" 

"Oh,  mevrouw,  never!" 

"How  much  then?  You  are  doing  a  charity  If  you 
buy.  Kassian,  her  husband  once  a  great  swell.  Indian 
Council." 

*  "Shrewd !" 

*  A  lady's  watch-chain. 
'£50. 


28  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"Two  hundred." 

"Kassian!    What  next?    Two  hundred  guilders!" 

"Two  hundred  and  fifty,  but  no  more.  I  really  have 
no  money." 

"The  residen!"  whispered  Mrs.  van  Does,  catching 
sight  of  Van  Oudijck,  who,  now  that  the  cases  were 
finished,  was  coming  towards  the  back-verandah.  "The 
residen     ...     he  buy  for  you !" 

Mrs.  van  Oudijck  smiled  and  looked  at  the  sparkling 
drop  of  light  on  the  black  velvet.  She  liked  jewels, 
she  was  not  altogether  indifferent  to  brilliants.  And 
she  looked  at  her  husband: 

"Mrs.  van  Does  is  showing  us  a  lot  of  beautiful 
things,"  she  said,  caressingly. 

Van  Oudijck  felt  an  inward  shock.  He  was  never 
pleased  to  see  Mrs.  van  Does  in  his  house.  She  always 
had  something  to  sell:  at  one  time,  batik^  counter- 
panes; at  another  time,  a  pair  of  woven  slippers;  at 
another,  magnificent  but  very  expensive  table-slips, 
with  gold  batik  flowers  on  yellow  glazed  linen.  Mrs. 
van  Does  always  brought  something  with  her,  was 
always  in  touch  with  the  wives  of  erstwhile  "great 
swells,"  whom  she  helped  by  selling  their  things  on  a 
very  high  commission.  A  morning  call  from  Mrs.  van 
Does  cost  him  each  time  at  least  a  few  rijksdaalders^ 
and  very  often  fifty  guilders,  for  his  wife  had  a  calm 
habit  of  always  buying  things  which  she  did  not  need 
but  which  she  was  too  indifferent  to  refuse  to  buy  of 
Mrs.  van  Does,  He  did  not  see  the  two  jam-pots  at 
once,  but  he  saw  the  drop  of  light  on  the  black  velvet 

^  Batik  is  a  method  of  painting  cotton  and  other  textures,  by 
which  they  are  coated  with  hot  wax  before  the  apph'cation  of  the 
paint 

*A  rijksdaaldcr  is  a  dollar,  or  4s.  2d. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  29 

aiid  he  understood  that  the  visit  would  cost  him  more 
than  fifty  guilders  this  time,  unless  he  was  very  firm: 

**Mevrouwtje!"i  he  exclaimed,  in  dismay.  "It's  the 
end  of  the  month:  there's  no  question  of  buying  bril- 
liants to-day !  And  jam-pots  full  too !"  he  added,  with 
a  stare,  when  he  now  saw  them  glittering  on  the  table, 
among  the  glasses  of  tamarind-syrup. 

"Oh,  that  residcn!"  laughed  Mrs.  van  Does,  as 
though  a  resident  were  bound  to  be  always  well  off. 

Van  Oudijck  hated  that  little  laugh.  His  household 
cost  him  every  month  a  few  odd  hundred  guilders 
above  his  salary ;  and  he  was  living  beyond  his  income, 
was  in  debt.  His  wife  never  troubled  herself  with 
money  matters ;  for  these  more  especially  she  reserved 
her  most  smiling  indifference. 

She  made  the  diamond  sparkle  In  the  sun  and  shoot 
forth  a  blue  ray. 

"It's  a  beauty  .  .  .  for  two  hundred  and  fifty,'* 
said  Mrs.  van  Oudijck. 

"For  three  hundred  then,  dear  mevrouw. 

"Three  hundred?"  she  asked,  dreamily,  playing  with 
the  jewel. 

Whether  it  cost  three  hundred  or  four  or  five  hun- 
dred was  all  one  to  her.  It  left  her  wholly  indifferent. 
But  she  liked  the  stone  and  meant  to  have  it,  at  what- 
ever price.  And  therefore  she  quietly  put  the  stone 
down  and  said: 

"No,  dear  mevrouw,  really  .  .  .  it*s  too  expen- 
sive; and  my  husband  has  no  money." 

She  said  it  so  prettily  that  there  was  no  guessing  her 
intention.     She  was  adorably  self-sacrificing  as  she 

*  Little  madam,  dear  lady. 


30  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

spoke  the  words.  Van  Oudijck  felt  a  second  inward 
shock.     He  could  refuse  his  wife  nothing: 

"Mevrouw,"  he  said,  "you  can  leave  the  stone 
.  .  .  for  three  hundred  guilders.  But  for  God's 
sake  take  your  jam-pots  away  with  you !" 

Mrs.  van  Does  looked  up  delightedly: 

"There,  what  did  I  tell  you  ?  I  knew  for  certain  the 
residen  would  buy  for  you !     .     .     ." 

Mrs.  van  Oudijck  looked  up  In  gentle  reproach: 

"But,  Otto!"  she  said:  "How  can  you?" 

"Do  you  like  the  stone?" 

"Yes,  it's  beautiful.  .  .  .  But  such  a  lot  of 
money !    For  one  brilliant !" 

And  she  drew  her  husband's  hand  towards  her  and 
suffered  him  to  kiss  her  on  the  forehead,  because  he  had 
been  permitted  to  buy  her  a  three-hundred-guilder 
diamond.  Doddie  and  Theo  stood  winking  at  each 
other. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Leonie  van  Oudljck  always  enjoyed  her  siesta.  She 
only  slept  for  a  moment,  but  she  loved  after  lunch  to 
be  alone  in  her  cool  bedroom  till  five  or  half-past  five. 
She  read  a  little,  mostly  the  magazines  from  the  circu- 
lating library ;  but  as  a  rule  she  did  nothing  but  dream. 
Her  dreams  were  vague  imaginings,  which  rose  before 
her  as  in  an  azure  mist  during  her  afternoons  of  soli- 
tude. Nobody  knew  of  them  and  she  kept  them  very 
secret,  like  a  secret  vice,  a  sin.  She  committed  herself 
much  more  readily — to  the  world — where  her  liaisons 
were  concerned.  These  never  lasted  long ;  they  counted 
for  little  in  her  life;  she  never  wrote  letters;  and  the 
favours  which  she  granted  afforded  the  recipient  no 
privileges  in  the  daily  intercourse  of  society.  Hers  was 
a  silent,  correct  depravity,  both  physical  and  moral. 
For  her  imaginings  too,  however  poetic  In  an  insipid 
way,  were  depraved.  Her  pet  author  was  Catulle 
Mendes:  she  loved  all  those  little  flowers  of  azure 
sentimentality,  those  rosy,  affected  little  cupids,  with 
one  little  finger  in  the  air  and  their  legs  gracefully 
hovering  around  the  most  vicious  themes  and  motives 
of  perverted  passion.  In  her  bedroom  hung  a  few  en- 
gravings: a  young  woman  lying  on  a  lace-covered  bed 
and  being  kissed  by  two  sportive  angels ;  another:  a  lion 
with  an  arrow  through  its  breast  at  the  feet  of  a  smiling 
maiden;  lastly,  a  large  coloured  advertisement  of  some 
scent  or  other:  a  sort  of  floral  nymph  whose  veils  were 
being  drawn  on  every  side  by  playful  little  cherubs,  of 


32  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

the  kind  which  we  see  on  soap-boxes.  This  one  in 
particular  she  thought  splendid;  she  could  imagine 
nothing  with  a  greater  aesthetic  appeal.  She  knew  that 
the  plate  was  monstrous,  but  she  had  never  been  able 
to  prevail  upon  herself  to  take  the  horrible  thing  down, 
though  it  was  looked  at  askance  by  everybody:  her 
friends,  her  step-children,  all  of  whom  walked  in  and 
out  of  her  room  with  the  Indian  casualness  which 
makes  no  secret  of  the  toilet.  She  could  stare  at  it  for 
minutes  on  end,  as  though  bewitched;  she  thought  it 
most  charming;  and  her  own  dreams  resembled  that 
print.  She  also  treasured  a  chocolate-box  with  a  keep- 
sake picture  on  it,  as  the  type  of  beauty  which  she  ad- 
mired, even  above  her  own:  the  pink  flush  on  the 
cheeks,  the  brown  eyes  under  imconvincing  golden  hair, 
the  bosom  showing  through  the  lace.  But  she  never 
committed  herself  in  respect  of  this  absurdity,  which 
she  vaguely  suspected ;  she  never  spoke  of  these  prints 
and  boxes,  just  because  she  knew  that  they  were  hide- 
ous. But  she  thought  them  lovely,  she  thought  them 
delightful,  she  thought  them  artistic  and  poetical. 

Those  were  her  happiest  hours. 

Here,  at  Labuwangi,  she  dared  not  do  what  she  did 
at  Batavia;  and  here,  at  Labuwangi,  people  hardly  be- 
lieved what  people  at  Batavia  said.  Nevertheless,  Mrs. 
van  Does  averred  that  this  resident  and  that  inspector — 
the  one  travelling  for  his  pleasure,  the  other  on  an 
official  circuit — staying  for  a  few  days  at  the  residency 
had  found  their  way  in  the  afternoon,  during  the  siesta, 
to  Leonle's  bedroom.  But  all  the  same  at  Labuwangi 
any  such  actual  occurrences  were  the  rarest  of  inter- 
ludes between  Mrs.  van  Oudijck's  rosy  afternoon 
visions. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  33 

Still,  this  afternoon  it  seemed  as  though,  after  doz- 
ing a  little  while  and  after  all  the  dullness  caused  by 
the  journey  and  the  heat  had  cleared  away  from  her 
milk-white  complexion,  as  though,  now  that  she  was 
looking  at  the  romping  angels  of  the  scent-advertise- 
ment, her  thoughts  were  no  longer  dwelling  on  those 
rosy,  tender,  doll-like  forms  and  as  though  she  were 
listening  to  the  sounds  outside.     .     .     . 

She  was  wearing  nothing  but  a  sarong,  which  she 
had  pulled  up  under  her  arms  and  hitched  in  a  twist 
across  her  breast.  Her  beautiful  fair  hair  hung  loose. 
Her  pretty  little  white  feet  were  bare:  she  had  not 
even  put  on  her  slippers.  And  she  looked  through  the 
slats  of  the  shutters. 

Between  the  flower-pots  which,  standing  on  the  side- 
steps of  the  house,  masked  her  windows  with  great 
masses  of  foliage,  she  could  see  an  annexe  consisting 
of  four  rooms — the  spare-rooms— one  of  which  was 
Theo's. 

She  stood  peering  for  a  moment  and  then  opened 
the  shutter  ajar.  And  she  saw  that  the  shutter  of 
Theo's  room  also  opened  a  little  way.     .     .     . 

Then  she  smiled ;  she  knotted  her  sarong  more  closely 
and  lay  down  upon  the  bed  again. 

She  listened. 

In  a  moment  she  heard  the  gravel  grating  slightly 
under  the  pressure  of  a  slipper.  Her  shutters,  without 
being  closed,  were  drawn  to.  A  liand  now  opened  them 
cautiously.     . 

She  looked  round  smiling: 

"What  is  it,  Theo?"  she  asked. 

He  came  nearer.    He  was  dressed  in  pyjamas  and 


34  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

he  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  played  with  her  soft 
white  hands ;  and  suddenly  he  kissed  her  fiercely. 

At  that  instant  a  stone  whizzed  through  the  bedroom. 

They  both  started,  looked  up  and  stood  for  a  moment 
In  the  middle  of  the  room: 

"Who  threw  that?"  she  asked. 

"One  of  the  boys,  perhaps,"  he  said,  "Rene  or  Ricus, 
playing  about  outside." 

"They  aren't  up  yet." 

"Or  something  may  have  fallen  from  above.    .    .    ." 

"But  it  was  thrown.     .     .     ." 

"A  stone  so  often  gets  loose.     .     .     ." 

"But  this  is  gravel." 

She  picked  up  the  little  stone.  He  looked  outside 
cautiously: 

"It's  nothing  Leonie.  It  must  really  have  fallen  out 
of  the  gutter  .  .  .  and  then  jumped  up  again. 
It's  nothing." 

"I'm  frightened,"  she  murmured. 

He  laughed  almost  aloud  and  asked: 

"But  why?" 

They  had  nothing  to  fear.  The  room  lay  between 
Leonie's  boudoir  and  two  large  spare-rooms,  which 
were  resented  exclusively  for  residents,  generals  and 
other  highly-placed  officials.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
middle  gallery  were  Van  Oudijck's  rooms — ^his  office 
and  his  bedroom — and  Doddle's  room  and  the  room  of 
the  boys,  Ricus  and  Rene.  Leonie  was  therefore  iso- 
lated In  her  wing,  between  the  spare-rooms.  It  made 
her  cynically  Insolent.  At  this  hour,  the  grounds  were 
quite  deserted.  For  that  matter,  she  was  not  afraid  of 
the  servants.  Oorip  was  wholly  to  be  trusted  and  often 
received  handsome  presents:    sarongs;   a  gold  pend- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  35 

ing;i^  a  long  diamond  kabaai-i^m,  which  she  wore  as  a 
jewelled  silver  plaque  on  her  breast.  As  Leonie  never 
grumbled,  was  generous  in  advancing  wages  and  dis- 
|)layed  an  apparently  easy-going  temperament — al- 
though ever}-thing  always  happened  as  she  wished — she 
was  not  disliked;  and,  whatever  the  servants  might 
know  about  her,  they  had  never  yet  betrayed  her.  It 
made  her  all  the  more  insolent.  A  curtain  hung  before 
a  passage  between  the  bedroom  and  boudoir ;  and  it  was 
arranged,  once  and  for  all,  between  Theo  and  Leonie 
that,  at  the  least  danger,  he  would  slip  away  quietly 
behind  that  hanging,  go  out  through  the  garden-door 
of  the  boudoir  and  pretend  to  be  looking  at  the  rose- 
trees  vdiich  stood  in  the  pots  on  the  steps.  This  would 
make  it  appear  as  though  he  had  just  come  from  his 
own  room  and  were  merely  inspecting  the  roses.  The 
inner  doors  of  the  boudoir  and  bedroom  were  usually 
locked,  because  Leonie  declared  frankly  that  she  did 
not  like  to  be  interrupted  unawares. 

She  liked  Theo,  because  of  his  fresh  youthfulness. 
And  here,  at  Labuwangi,  he  was  her  only  vice,  not 
counting  a  passing  inspector  and  the  little  pink  angels. 
The  two  were  now  like  naughty  children ;  they  laughed 
silently,  in  each  other's  arms.  It  was  past  four  by  this 
time ;  and  they  heard  the  voices  of  Rene  and  Ricus  in 
the  garden.  They  were  taking  possession  of  the 
grounds  for  the  holidays.  They  were  thirteen  and 
fourteen  years  old ;  and  they  enjoyed  the  garden.  They 
ran  about  barefoot,  in  blue  striped  pyjamas,  and  went 
to  look  at  the  horses,  at  the  pigeons ;  they  teased  Dod- 
dle's cockatoo,  which  tripped  about  on  the  roof  of  the 
outhouses.    They  had  a  tame  hadjmg.~    They  hunted 

^  Clasp,  buckle. 
'  Squirrel. 


36  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

tokkes,^  which  they  shot  with  a  sumpitan,^  to  the  great 
vexation  of  tlie  servants,  because  the  tokkes  bring  luck. 
They  bought  katjang-gorcng^  at  the  gate  of  a  passing 
Chinaman  and  then  mocked  him,  imitating  his  accent: 
"Katja-ang  golcngan!*  .  .  .  Tjina  mampoos!"^ 
They  chmbed  into  the  flamboyant  and  swung  in  the 
brandies  hke  monkeys.  They  flung  stones  at  the  cats ; 
they  incited  the  neighbours'  dogs  to  bark  themselves 
hoarse  and  bite  one  another's  ears  to  pieces.  They 
splashed  about  with  the  water  in  the  pond,  made  them- 
selves unpresentable  with  mud  and  dirt  and  dared  to 
pluck  the  Victoria  Regias,  which  was  strictly  forbidden. 
They  tested  the  bearing-power  of  the  flat,  green 
Victoria-leaves,  which  looked  like  tea-trays,  and  tried 
to  stand  on  them  and  tumbled  in.  Then  they  took 
empty  bottles,  set  them  in  a  row  and  bowled  at  them 
with  pebble-stones.  Then,  with  bamboos,  they  fished 
up  all  sorts  of  unspeakable  floating  things  from  the 
ditch  beside  the  house  and  threw  them  at  each  other. 
Their  inventive  fancy  was  inexhaustible ;  and  the  hour 
of  the  siesta  was  their  special  hour.  They  had  caught 
a  tokke  and  a  cat  and  were  making  them  fight  each 
other;  the  tokke  opened  its  jaws,  which  were  like  a 
small  crocodile's,  and  hypnotized  the  cat,  which  slunk 
away,  withdrawing  from  its  enemy's  beady,  black  eyes, 
arching  its  back  and  bristling  with  terror.  And  after 
that  the  boys  ate  themselves  ill  with  unripe  mangoes. 

Leonie  and  Theo  had  watched  the  fight  between  the 
cat  and  tokke  through  the  slats  of  the  shutter  and  now 

*  Geckos,  large-headed  lizards. 
'  Blow-pipe. 

'  Roasted  monkey-nuts. 

*  Katjang-goreng,  as  above.    The  Giinese  sound  tlie  "r"  as  "1" 
and  add  "an"  to  many  Malay  words  in  their  dialect 

*  "Chinaman  dead  !"    This  is  a  term  of  abuse. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  37 

saw  the  boys  quietly  eating  the  unripe  mangoes  on  the 
grass.  But  it  was  now  the  hour  when  the  prisoners, 
twelve  in  number,  worked  in  the  grounds,  under  the 
supervision  of  a  dignified  old  mandoor,^  with  a  little 
cane  in  his  hand.  They  fetched  water  in  tubs  and 
watering-cans  made  out  of  Devoe's"  paraffin-tins,  some- 
times in  the  actual  paraffin-tins  themselves,  and  watered 
the  plants,  the  grass  and  the  gravel.  Then  they  swept 
the  groimds  with  a  loud  rustle  of  lidi^-hvooms. 

Rene  and  Ricus,  behind  the  mandoor's  back,  for  they 
were  afraid  of  him,  threw  half-eaten  mangoes  at  the 
prisoners  and  called  them  names  and  made  faces  and 
grimaces  at  them.  Doddie  appeared  after  her  nap, 
carrjMng  her  cockatoo  on  her  wrist.  It  cried,  "Kaka! 
Ka-ka!"  and  raised  its  yellow  crest  with  swift  move- 
ments of  the  neck. 

And  Theo  now  stole  behind  the  curtain  into  the  bou- 
doir and,  at  a  moment  when  the  boys  were  running  and 
bombarding  each  other  with  mangoes  and  when  Doddie 
was  strolling  towards  the  pond  with  the  loitering  gait 
and  the  sv^-ing  of  the  hips  peculiar  to  the  Creole,  he  came 
from  behind  the  plants,  smelling  at  the  roses  and  behar- 
ing  as  though  he  had  been  walking  in  the  garden  before 
going  to  take  his  bath. 

^  Overseer. 

'  A  Dutch  oil-purveyor. 

'  Coco-nut-fibre. 


CHAPTER  V 

Van  Oudijck  felt  in  a  more  pleasant  mood  than  he 
had  felt  for  weeks :  his  house  seemed  to  have  recovered 
after  those  two  months  of  dull  boredom;  he  thought 
it  jolly  to  see  his  two  rascals  of  boys  romping  round 
the  garden,  even  though  they  did  all  sorts  of  mischief ; 
and  above  all  he  was  very  glad  that  his  wife  was  back. 
They  were  now  sitting  in  the  garden,  in  undress, 
drinking  tea,  at  half -past  five.  It  was  very  strange,  but 
Leonie  at  once  filled  the  great  house  with  a  certain 
home-like  feeling  of  comfort,  because  she  liked  comfort 
herself.  At  other  times  Van  Oudijck  would  hurriedly 
swallow  a  cup  of  tea  which  Kario  brought  him  in  his 
bedroom:  to-day  this  afternoon-tea  made  a  pleasant 
break  in  the  day ;  cane  chairs  and  long  deck-chairs  were 
placed  outside,  in  front  of  the  house ;  the  tea-tray  stood 
on  a  cane  table ;  there  was  pisang  goreng;^  and  Leonie, 
in  a  red  silk  Japanese  kimono,  with  her  fair  hair  hang- 
ing loose,  lay  back  in  a  cane  chair  playing  with  Doddie's 
cockatoo  and  feeding  it  with  pastry.  It  was  different 
at  once,  Van  Oudijck  thought:  his  wife  so  sociable, 
charming,  pretty,  telling  scraps  of  news  about  their 
friends  in  Batavia,  the  races  at  Buitenzorg,  a  ball  at  the 
Viceroy's,  the  Italian  opera;  the  boys  merry,  healthy 
and  jolly,  however  dirty  they  might  make  themselves  in 
playing.  He  called  them  to  him  and  romped  with  them 
and  asked  them  about  the  Gymnasium- — they  were 
both  in  the  second  class — and  even  Doddie  and  Theo 
seemed  different  to  him:    Doddie  was  now  plucking 

^Roasted  bananas. 
^  Grammar-school. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  39 

roses  from  the  potted  trees,  looking  delightfully  pretty 
and  humming  a  tune;  and  Theo  was  communicative 
with  mamma  and  even  with  him.  A  pleased  expression 
played  around  Van  Oudijck's  moustache.  He  looked 
young  in  the  face,  hardly  showed  his  forty-eight  years. 
He  had  a  quick,  bright  glance,  a  way  of  looking  up 
suddenly  with  an  acutely  penetrating  air.  He  was 
rather  heavy  of  build,  with  a  tendency  to  become 
heavier  still,  but  yet  he  had  retained  a  soldierly  brisk- 
ness and  he  was  indefatigable  on  his  circuits:  he  was  a 
first-rate  horseman.  Tall  and  powerfully  built,  con- 
tent with  his  house  and  his  family,  he  wore  a  pleasant 
air  of  robust  virility  and  that  jovial  laughing  expression 
around  his  moustache.  And,  letting  himself  go, 
stretching  himself  at  full  length  in  his  cane  chair,  he 
drank  his  cup  of  tea,  gave  utterance  to  the  thoughts 
which  generally  welled  up  in  him  at  such  moments  of 
satisfaction.  Yes,  it  was  not  a  bad  life  in  India,^  when 
all  was  said,  in  the  B.B.^  At  least  it  had  always  been 
good  for  him ;  but  then  he  had  been  pretty  lucky.  Pro- 
motion nowadays  was  a  desperate  business:  he  knew 
any  number  of  assistant-residents  who  were  his  con- 
temporaries and  who  had  no  chance  of  becoming  resi- 
dents for  years  to  come.  And  that  certainly  was  a 
desperate  position,  to  continue  so  long  in  a  subordinate 
office,  to  be  compelled  at  that  age  to  hold  one's  self  at 
the  orders  of  a  resident.  He  could  never  have  stood 
it,  at  forty-eight !  But  to  be  a  resident,  to  give  orders 
on  his  own  initiative,  to  rule  so  large  and  Important  a 
district  as  Labuwangi,  with  such  extensive  coffee- 
plantations,  with  such  numerous  sugar-factories,  with 

'  The  Dutch  always  speak  of  the  Dutch  East  Indies — Java, 

Sumatra,  Celebes,  etc. — as  India. 

*  The  Bittncnlandsch  Bestuur,  or  inland  administration. 


40  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

so  many  leased  concessions:  that  was  a  delight,  that 
was  living,  that  was  a  life  grander  and  more  spacious 
than  any  other,  a  life  with  which  no  life  or  position 
in  Holland  was  to  be  compared.  His  great  responsi- 
bility delighted  his  authoritative  nature.  His  activities 
were  varied:  office  work  and  circuit;  the  interests  of 
his  work  were  varied:  a  man  was  not  bored  to  death 
in  his  office-chair ;  after  the  office  there  was  out-of-door 
life;  and  there  was  always  a  change,  always  something 
different.  He  hoped  in  eighteen  months  to  become  a 
resident  of  the  first  class,  if  a  first-class  residency  fell 
vacant:  Batavia,  Samarang,  Surabaya,  or  one  of  the 
Vorstenlanden.^  And  yet  it  would  go  to  his  heart  to 
leave  Labuwangi.  He  was  attached  to  his  district, 
for  which  he  had  done  so  much  during  the  past  five 
years,  which  in  those  five  years  had  attained  its  highest 
prosperity,  in  so  far  as  prosperity  was  possible  in  these 
times  of  general  depression,  with  the  colonies  poor,  the 
population  impoverished,  the  coffee-crops  worse  than 
ever,  sugar  perhaps  threatened  with  a  serious  crisis  in 
two  years'  time,  India  was  in  a  languishing  condition  ; 
and  even  In  the  industrial  Oosthoek"  inertia  and  lack 
of  vitality  were  spreading  like  a  blight ;  but  still  he  had 
been  able  to  do  much  for  Labuwangi.  During  his  ad- 
ministration the  people  had  thrived  and  prospered ;  the 
irrigation  of  the  corn-fields  was  excellent,  after  he  had 
succeeded  In  tactfully  winning  over  the  engineer,  who 
at  first  was  always  In  conflict  with  the  B.B.  Miles  and 
miles  of  steam  tramways  had  been  laid  down.  The 
secretary,  his  assistant-residents,  his  controllers  were 
his  willing  coadjutors,  though  he  kept  them  hard  at 

*  The  native  states  of  Surakarta  and  Djokjokarta  are  known  as 
tHe  Vorstenlanden,  or  Principalities. 
'The  eastern  portion  of  Java. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  41 

work.  But  he  had  a  pleasant  way  with  them,  even 
though  the  work  was  hard.  He  knew  how  to  be  jolly 
and  friendly  with  them,  resident  though  he  was.  He 
was  glad  that  all  of  them,  his  controllers,  his  assistant- 
residents,  represented  the  wholesome,  cheerful  time  of 
B.B.  official,  pleased  with  their  life,  liking  their  work, 
though  nowadays  given  much  more  than  formerly  to 
study  in  the  Govcrninent  Almanack  and  the  Colonial 
List  with  a  view  to  their  promotion.  And  it  was  Van 
Oudijck's  hobby  to  compare  his  officials  with  the  ju- 
dicial functionaries,  who  did  not  represent  the  same 
buoyant  type:  there  was  always  a  slight  jealousy  and 
animosity  between  the  two  orders.  .  .  .  Yes,  it  was 
a  pleasant  life,  a  pleasant  sphere  of  activity:  every- 
thing was  all  right.  There  was  nothing  to  beat  the  B.B. 
His  only  regret  was  that  his  relations  with  the  regent^ 
were  not  easier  and  more  agreeable.  But  it  was  not 
his  fault.  He  had  always  very  conscientiously  given 
the  regent  his  due,  had  left  him  in  the  enjoyment  of 
his  full  rights,  had  seen  to  it  that  he  was  duly  respected 
by  the  Javanese  population  and  even  by  the  European 
officials.  Oh,  how  intensely  he  regretted  the  death  of 
the  old  Pangeran,-  the  regent's  father,  the  old  regent, 
a  noble,  cultivated  Javanese !  Van  Oudijck  had  always 
been  in  sympathy  with  him,  had  at  once  won  him  by 
his  tact.  Had  he  not,  five  years  ago,  when  he  arrived 
at  Labuwangi  to  take  over  the  administration,  invited 
the  Pangeran — the  type  of  the  genuine  Javanese  noble- 
man— to  sit  beside  him  In  his  ov/n  carriage,  rather  than 
allow  him  to  follow  in  a  second  carriage,  behind  the 
resident's  carriage,  as  was  usual  ?  And  had  this  civility 
towards  the  old  prince  not  at  once  won  all  the  Javanese 

^  The  native  recent,  or  rajah. 

*  Prince,  the  highest  title  borne  by  the  native  nobility. 


42  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

heads  and  officials  and  flattered  them  in  their  respect 
and  love  for  their  regent,  the  descendent  of  one  of  the 
oldest  Javanese  families,  the  Adiningrats,  who  were 
Sultans  of  Madura  in  the  Company's^  time? 
But  Sunario,  his  son,  now  the  young  regent,  he  was 
unable  to  understand,  unable  to  fathom.  This  he  con- 
fessed only  to  himself,  in  silence — seeing  him  always 
enigmatic — that  zvajang-puppct,-  as  he  called  him — 
always  stiff,  keeping  his  distance  towards  him,  the 
resident,  as  though  he,  the  prince,  looked  down  upon 
him,  the  Dutch  burgher,  and  wholly  absorbed  in  all 
sorts  of  superstitious  observances  and  fanatical  specula- 
tions. He  never  said  as  much  openly,  but  something 
in  the  regent  escaped  him.  He  was  unable  to  place 
that  delicate  figure,  with  the  fixed  coal-black  eyes,  In 
the  practical  life  of  human  beings,  as  he  had  always 
been  able  to  place  the  old  Pangeran.  The  latter  had 
always  been  to  him,  In  accordance  with  his  age,  a 
fatherly  friend;  In  accordance  with  etiquette,  his 
*Vounger  brother" ;  but  always  the  fellow-ruler  of  his 
district.  But  Sunario  seemed  to  him  unreal,  not  a 
functionary,  not  a  regent,  merely  a  fanatical  Javanese 
who  always  shrouded  himself  In  mystery: 

*'Such  nonsense!"  thought  Van  Oudijck. 

He  laughed  at  the  reputation  for  sacrosanctlty 
which  the  populace  bestowed  upon  Sunario.  He 
thought  him  unpractical,  a  degenerate  Javanese,  a  crazy 
Javanese  dandy. 

But  his  lack  of  harmony  with  the  regent — a  lack  of 
harmony  In  character  only,  which  had  never  developed 

*Like  British  India,  Java  was  af  first  administered  by  a  com- 
pany, the  Dutch  East  India  Companj'. 

"  A  ivajang  is  a  Javanese  puppet-show,  in  which  the  figures 
represent  strongly  accentuated  heroes  and  heroines  out  of  the 
native  legends. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  43 

into  actual  fact:  why,  he  could  twist  the  mannikin 
round  his  finger! — was  the  only  great  difficulty  which 
had  arisen  during  all  these  years.  And  he  would  not 
have  exchanged  his  life  as  a  resident  for  any  other  life 
whatever.  Why,  he  was  already  fretting  about  what 
he  would  do  later,  when  he  was  pensioned  off !  What 
i  he  would  have  preferred  was  to  continue  as  long  as 
possible  in  the  service,  as  a  member  of  the  Indian 
Council,  as  vice-president.^  The  object  of  his  unspoken 
ambition,  in  the  far-away  future,  was  the  throne  of 
Buitenzorg."  But  nowadays  they  had  that  strong 
mania  in  Holland  for  appointing  outsiders  to  the 
highest  posts — men  sent  straight  from  Holland,  new- 
comers who  knew  nothing  about  India — instead  of  re- 
maining faithful  to  the  principle  of  selecting  old  Indian 
servants,  who  had  made  their  way  up  from  subcon- 
troller  and  who  knew  the  whole  official  hierarchy  by 
heart.  .  .  .  Yes,  what  would  he  do,  pensioned  off  ? 
Live  at  Nice?  With  no  money?  For  saving  was  im- 
practicable: his  life  was  comfortable,  but  expensive; 
and  instead  of  saving  he  was  running  up  debts.  Well, 
that  didn't  matter  now:  the  debts  would  be  paid  off  in 
time,  but  later,  later  .  .  .  The  future,  the  ex- 
istence of  a  pensioned  official,  was  anything  but  an 
agreeable  prospect  for  him.  To  vegetate  at  the  Hague, 
in  a  small  house,  with  a  gin-and-bitters  in  the  Witte"  or 
In  the  Besogne-kamer* — among  the  old  fogeys:  br-r-r! 
The  very  idea  of  it  made  him  shudder.  He  wouldn't 
think  about  it ;  he  preferred  not  to  think  about  it  at  all: 

'  The  viceroy  or  governor-general,  is  president  of  the  Indian 
Council. 

"The  hot-weather  capital,  thirty  or  forty  miles  from  Batavia, 
containing  the  viceroy's  palace. 

'  The  largest  social  club  at  the  Hague. 

*The  select  conservative  club  at  the  Hague. 


44  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

perhaps  he  would  be  dead  by  that  time.  But  It  was  all 
delightful  now:  his  work,  his  house,  India.  There  was 
absolutely  nothing  to  compare  with  it. 

Leonie  had  listened  to  him  smilingly:  she  was  ac- 
customed to  his  c|ulet  enthusiasm,  his  rhapsodizing  over 
his  post;  as  she  put  it,  his  adoration  of  the  B.B.  She 
also  valued  the  luxury  of  being  a  resident's  wife.  The 
comparative  isolation  she  did  not  mind ;  she  usually  was 
sufficient  unto  herself.  And  she  answered  smilingly, 
contented  and  charming  with  her  creamy  complexion, 
which  showed  still  whiter  under  the  light  coat  of  hedak^ 
against  the  red  silk  of  her  kimono  and  which  looked 
delightful  amidst  the  surrounding  waves  of  her  fair 
hair. 

That  morning  she  had  felt  put  out  for  a  moment: 
Labuwangi,  after  Batavia,  had  depressed  her  with  the 
tedium  of  an  up-country  capital.  But  since  then  she  had 
acquired  a  large  diamond;  since  then  she  had  Theo 
back.  His  room  was  close  to  hers.  And  it  was  sure  to 
be  a  long  time  before  he  could  obtain  a  berth. 

These  were  her  thoughts,  while  her  husband  sat  bliss- 
fully reflecting  after  his  pleasant  confidences. 

Her  thoughts  went  no  deeper  than  this:  anything 
like  remorse  w^ould  have  surprised  her  In  the  highest 
degree,  had  she  been  capable  of  feeling  It.  .  .  .  It 
began  to  grow  dark  slowly ;  the  moon  was  already  rising 
and  shining  brightly ;  and  behind  the  velvety  waringlns, 
behind  the  feathery  boughs  of  the  coco-palms,  which 
waved  gently  up  and  down,  like  tall,  majestic  bundles, 
like  stately  sheaves  of  dark  ostrich-feathers,  the  last 
light  of  the  sun  threw  a  faintly  stippled,  dull-gold  re- 
flection, against  which  the  softness  of  the  waringlns 

*  Rice-powder. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  45 

and  the  pomp  of  the  coco-palms  stood  out  as  though 
etched  in  black.  From  the  distance  came  the  monoto- 
nous tinkle  of  the  ganiclan,^  mournfully,  limpid  as 
water,  like  a  xylophone,  with  a  deeper  dissonance  at 
intervals. 

*  Native  orchestra. 


CHAPTER  VI 

Van  Oudijck  in  a  pleasant  mood  because  of  his  wife 
and  children,  suggested  a  drive ;  and  the  horses  were  put 
to  the  landau.  Van  Oudijck  had  a  glad  and  jovial  look, 
under  the  broad,  gold-laced  peak  of  his  cap.  Leonie, 
seated  beside  him,  was  wearing  a  new  mauve  muslin 
frock,  from  Batavia,  and  a  hat  with  mauve  poppies.  A 
lady's  hat  in  the  up-country  districts  is  a  luxury,  a  co- 
lossal elegance;  and  Doddie,  facing  her,  but  dressed 
inland-fashion,  without  a  hat,  was  secretly  vexed  and 
thought  that  mamma  might  just  as  well  have  told  her 
she  was  going  to  "take"  a  hat,  to  use  Doddie's  idiom. 
She  was  now  such  a  contrast  to  mamma ;  she  couldn't 
bear  them  now,  those  softly  swaying  poppies.  Of  the 
boys,  Rene  was  with  them,  in  a  clean  white  suit.  The 
chief  oppasser  sat  on  the  box  beside  the  coachman, 
holding  against  his  side  the  great  golden  pajong,^  the 
symbol  of  authority.  It  was  past  six,  it  was  already 
growing  dark ;  and  over  Labuwangi  there  hung  at  this 
hour  the  velvety  silence,  the  tragic  mystery  of  the  twilit 
atmosphere  that  marked  the  days  of  the  eastern  mon- 
soon. Sometimes  a  dog  barked,  or  a  wood-pigeon 
cooed,  breaking  the  unreality  of  the  silence,  as  of  a 
deserted  town.  But  now  there  was  also  the  rattle  of 
the  carriage  driving  right  through  the  silence ;  and  the 
horses  stamped  the  silence  into  tiny  shreds.  No  other 
carriages  were  met ;  an  absence  of  all  signs  of  human 
life  cast  a  spell  upon  the  gardens  and  verandahs.  A 
couple  of  young  men  on  foot,  in  white,  took  off  their 
hats. 

*  Umbrella.     . 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  47 

The  carriage  had  left  the  wealthier  part  of  the  town 
and  entered  the  Chinese  quarter,  where  the  lights  were 
burning  in  the  little  shops.  Business  was  almost  fin- 
ished: the  Chinamen  were  resting,  in  all  sorts  of  limp 
attitudes,  with  their  legs  dangling  or  crossed,  their  arms 
round  their  heads,  their  pigtails  loose  or  twisted  around 
their  skulls.  When  the  carriage  approached,  they  rose 
and  remained  standing  respectfully.  The  Javanese  for 
the  most  part — those  who  were  well  brought  up  and 
knew  their  manners  squatted  down.  Along  the  road 
stood  a  row  of  little  portable  kitchens,  lit  by  small  paraf- 
fin-lamps, the  drink-vendors,  the  pastry-sellers.  The 
prevailing  colour  in  the  evening  darkness,  lit  by  innu- 
merable little  lamps,  was  dingy  and  motley.  The  Chi- 
nese shops  were  crammed  with  goods,  painted  with  red 
and  gold  characters  and  pasted  with  red  and  gold  labels 
with  inscriptions:  in  the  background  was  the  domestic 
altar  with  the  sacred  print:  the  white  god  seated,  with 
the  black  god  grimacing  behind  him.  But  the  street  wid- 
ened, became  suddenly  more  considerable :  rich  Chinese 
houses  loomed  up  softly,  like  white  villas;  the  most 
striking  was  the  gleaming,  palatial  villa  of  an  immense- 
ly wealthy  retired  opium-factor,  who  had  made  his 
money  in  the  days  before  the  opium-monopoly:  a 
gleaming  palace  of  graceful  stucco-work,  with  number- 
less outbuildings.  The  porticos  of  the  verandah  were 
in  a  monumental  style  of  imposing  elegance  and  in  many 
soft  shades  of  gold ;  in  the  depth  of  the  open  house  the 
immense  domestic  altar  was  visible,  with  the  print  of 
the  gods  conspicuously  illuminated ;  the  garden  was  laid 
out  with  conventional,  winding  paths,  but  beautifully 
filled  with  square  pots  and  tall  vases  of  dark  blue-and- 
green  glazed  porcelain,  containing  dwarf  trees,  handed 


4S  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

down  as  heirlooms  from  father  to  son ;  and  always  kept 
with  a  radiant  cleanliness,  a  careful  neatness  of  detail, 
eloquent  of  the  prosperous,  spick-and-span  luxury  of  a 
Chinese  opium-millionaire.  But  not  all  the  Chinese 
houses  were  so  ostentatiously  open:  most  of  them  lay 
hidden  with  closed  doors  in  high- walled  gardens,  tucked 
away  in  the  secrecy  of  their  domestic  life. 

But  suddenly  the  houses  came  to  an  end  and  Chinese 
graves  stretched  along  a  broad  road:  rich  graves,  each 
grassy  mound  with  a  stone  entrance — the  door  of  death 
— raised  in  the  form  of  the  symbol  of  fecundity — the 
door  of  life — and  all  surrounded  with  plenty  of  turf, 
to  the  great  vexation  of  Van  Oudi  jck,  who  reckoned  out 
how  much  ground  was  lost  to  cultivation  by  these  burial- 
places  of  the  rich  Chinese,  And  the  Chinese  seemed  to 
triumph  in  life  and  death  in  this  mysterious  town  which 
was  otherwise  so  silent:  the  Chinese  gave  it  its  actual 
character  of  busy  traffic,  of  trade,  of  money-making,  of 
living  and  dying ;  for,  when  the  carriage  drove  into  the 
Arab  quarter — a  district  of  houses  like  any  others,  but 
gloomy,  lacking  in  style,  with  life  and  prosperity  hid- 
den away  behind  closed  doors;  with  chairs  in  the 
verandah,  but  the  master  of  the  house  gloomily  sitting 
cross-legged  on  the  floor,  following  the  carriage  with  a 
black  look — this  quarter  seemed  even  more  mysterious 
than  the  fashionable  part  of  Labuwangi  and  seemed  to 
radiate  its  unutterable  mystery  like  an  atmosphere  of 
Islam  that  spread  over  the  whole  town,  as  though  it 
were  Islam  that  had  poured  forth  the  dusk,  fatal 
melancholy  of  resignation  that  filled  the  shuddering, 
noiseless  evening.  ,  ,  ,  They  did  not  feel  this  in 
their  rattling  carriage,  accustomed  to  that  atmosphere 
as  they  were  from  childhood  and  no  longer  sensitive  to 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  49 

the  gloomy  secret  that  was  like  the  approach  of  a  dark 
force  which  had  always  breathed  upon  them,  the  rulers 
with  their  Creole  blood,  so  that  they  should  never  sus- 
pect it.  Perhaps,  when  Van  Oudijck  now  and  again 
read  about  Pan-Islam  in  the  newspapers,  he  was  dimly 
conscious  in  his  deepest  thoughts  of  this  dark  force, 
this  gloomy  secret.  But  at  moments  like  the  present — 
driving  with  his  wife  and  children,  amid  the  rattling  of 
his  carriage  and  the  trampling  of  his  fine  Walers;  the 
oppasscr  with  the  furled  pajong,  which  glittered  like  a 
furled  sun,  on  the  box — he  felt  too  intensely  aware  of 
his  individuality,  his  authoritative,  overbearing  nature, 
to  feel  anything  of  the  dark  secret,  to  divine  anything 
of  the  black  peril.  And  he  was  now  in  far  too  pleasant 
a  mood  to  feel  or  see  anything  melancholy.  In  his 
optimism  he  did  not  see  even  the  decline  of  his  town, 
which  he  loved ;  he  was  not  struck,  as  they  drove  past, 
by  the  immense,  porticoed  villas,  the  witnesses  to  the 
prosperity  of  former  planters,  now  deserted,  neglected, 
standing  in  grounds  that  had  run  wild,  one  of  them 
taken  over  by  a  timber-felling  company,  which  allowed 
the  foreman  to  live  in  it  and  stacked  the  logs  in  the 
front-garden.  The  deserted  houses  gleamed  sadly 
with  their  pillared  porticoes  which,  amid  the  desolate 
grounds,  loomed  spectral  in  the  moonlight,  like  temples 
of  evil.  But  they  did  not  see  it  like  that:  enjoying  the 
rocking  of  the  soft  carriage-springs,  Leonie  smiled  and 
dozed  ;  and  Doddle  now  that  they  were  approaching  the 
Lange  Laan  again,  looked  out  to  see  whether  she  could 
catch  sight  of  Addie. 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  secretary,  Onno  Eldersma,  was  a  busy  man.  The 
post  brought  a  daily  average  of  some  two  hundred  let- 
ters and  documents  to  the  residency-office,  which  em- 
ployed two  senior  clerks,  six  juniors  and  a  number  of 
djunitnlis  and  magangs;^  and  the  resident  grumbled 
whenever  the  work  fell  into  arrears.  He  himself  was 
an  energetic  worker ;  and  he  expected  his  subordinates 
to  show  the  same  spirit.  But  sometimes  there  was  a 
perfect  torrent  of  documents,  claims  and  applications. 
Eldersma  was  the  typical  government  official,  wholly 
wrapped  up  in  his  minutes  and  reports ;  and  Eldersma 
was  always  busy.  He  worked  morning,  noon  and  night. 
He  allowed  himself  no  siesta.  He  took  a  hurried  lunch 
at  four  o'clock  and  then  rested  for  a  little.  Fortunately 
he  had  a  sound,  robust  Frisian  constitution;  but  he 
needed  all  his  blood,  all  his  muscles,  all  his  nerves  for 
his  work.  It  was  not  mere  scribbling,  fumbling  with 
papers:  it  was  manual  labour  with  the  pen,  muscular 
work,  nervous  work ;  and  it  never  ceased.  He  consumed 
himself,  he  spent  himself,  he  was  always  writing.  He 
had  not  another  idea  left  in  his  head;  he  was  nothing 
but  the  official,  the  civil  servant.  He  had  a  charming 
house,  a  most  charming  and  exceptional  wife,  a  delight- 
ful child,  but  he  never  saw  them,  though  he  lived, 
vaguely,  amid  his  home  surroundings.  He  just  slaved 
away,  conscientiously,  working  off  what  he  could. 
Sometimes  he  would  tell  the  resident  that  It  was  impos- 
sible for  him  to  do  any  more.    But  on  this  point  Van 

^  Native  writers  and  clerks. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  51 

Oudijck  was  inexorable,  pitiless.  He  himself  had  been 
a  district  secretary ;  he  knew  what  it  meant.  It  meant 
work,  it  meant  plodding  on  like  a  cart-horse.  It  meant 
living,  eating,  sleeping  with  your  pen  in  your  hand. 
Then  Van  Oudijck  would  show  him  this  or  that  piece 
of  work  which  had  to  be  finished.  And  Eldersma,  who 
had  said  that  he  could  do  no  more  than  he  was  doing, 
finished  the  work  and  therefore  always  did  do  some- 
thing more  than  he  believed  that  he  could  do. 

Then  his  wife,  Eva,  would  say: 

**My  husband  has  ceased  to  be  a  human  being;  my 
husband  has  ceased  to  be  a  man ;  my  husband  is  an  of- 
ficial." 

The  young  wife,  very  European,  now  in  India  for  the 
first  time,  had  never  known,  before  her  two  years  at 
Labuwangi,  that  it  was  possible  to  work  as  hard  as  her 
husband  did,  in  a  country  as  hot  as  Labuwangi  was  dur- 
ing the  eastern  monsoon.  She  had  resisted  it  at  first ; 
she  had  at  first  tried  to  stand  upon  her  rights ;  but,  when 
she  saw  that  he  had  really  not  a  minute  to  spare,  she 
waived  her  rights.  She  had  at  once  realized  that  her 
husband  would  not  share  her  life,  nor  could  she  share 
his,  not  because  he  was  not  a  good  husband  and  very 
fond  of  his  wife,  but  simply  because  the  post  brought 
two  hundred  letters  and  documents  daily.  She  had  at 
once  seen  that  there  was  nothing  for  her  at  Labuwangi 
and  she  would  have  to  console  herself  with  her  house 
and,  later,  with  her  child.  She  arranged  her  house  as  a 
temple  of  art  and  comfort  and  racked  her  brains  over 
the  education  of  her  little  boy.  She  was  an  artistically 
cultivated  woman  and  came  from  an  artistic  environ- 
ment. Her  father  was  Van  Hove,  the  great  landscape- 
painter;  her  mother  was  Stella  Couberg,  the  famous 


52  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

concert-singer.  Eva,  brought  up  in  an  artistic  and 
musical  liome,  whose  atmosphere  she  had  breathed  since 
her  babyhood  in  her  picture-books  and  childish  songs, 
had  married  an  East-Indian  civil  servant  and  had 
accompanied  him  to  Labuwangi.  She  loved  her  hus- 
band, a  good-looking  Frisian  and  a  man  of  sufficient 
culture  to  take  an  interest  in  many  subjects.  And  she 
had  gone,  happy  in  her  love  and  jfilled  with  illusions 
about  India  and  all  the  orientalism  of  the  tropics.  And 
she  had  tried  to  preserve  her  illusions,  despite  the  warn- 
ings which  she  had  received.  At  Singapore  she  was 
struck  by  the  colour  of  the  naked  Malays,  like  that  of  a 
bronze  statue,  by  the  eastern  motley  of  the  Chinese  and 
Arab  quarters  and  the  poetry  of  the  Japanese  tea- 
houses, which  unfolded  like  a  page  of  Loti  as  she  drove 
past.  But,  soon  after,  in  Batavia,  a  grey  disappointment 
had  fallen  like  a  cold  drizzling  rain  upon  her  expecta- 
tion of  seeing  everything  in  India  as  a  beautiful  fairy- 
tale, a  story  out  of  the  Arabian  Nights.  The  habits  of 
their  narrow,  everyday  existence  damped  all  her  unso- 
phisticated longing  to  admire ;  and  she  saw  everything 
that  was  ridiculous  even  before  she  discovered  anything 
more  that  was  beautiful.  At  her  hotel,  the  men  in 
pyjamas  lay  at  full  length  in  the  long  chairs,  with  their 
lazy  legs  on  the  extended  leg-rests,  their  feet — although 
carefully  tended — ^bare  and  their  toes  moving  quietly  in 
a  conscientious  exercise  of  big  toe  and  little  toe,  even 
while  she  was  passing.  The  ladies  were  in  sarong  and 
kahaai,  the  only  practical  morning-dress,  which  Is  easily 
changed,  two  or  three  times  a  day,  but  which  suits  so 
few,  the  straight  pillow-case  outline  at  the  back  being 
peculiarly  angular  and  ugly,  however  elegant  and  ex- 
penslvethe  costume.    .    .    .    And  then  thecommonplace 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  53 

aspect  of  the  houses,  with  all  their  whitewash  and  their 
rows  of  fragile  and  meretricious  flower-pots;  the 
parched  barrenness  of  the  vegetation,  the  dirt  of  the 
natives.  And,  in  the  life  of  the  Europeans,  a.ll  the  minor 
absurdities:  the  sinjo  accent,  with  the  constant  little 
exclamations ;  the  narrow  provincial  conventionality  of 
the  officials:  only  the  Indian  Council  wearing  top-hats. 
And  then  the  rigorous  little  maxims  of  etiquette:  at  a 
reception,  the  highest  functionary  is  the  first  to  leave ; 
the  others  follow  in  due  order.  And  the  little  peculiari- 
ties of  tropical  customs,  such  as  the  use  of  Devoe  pack- 
ing-cases and  paraffin-tins  for  this,  that  and  the  other 
purpose:  the  wood  for  shop-windows,  for  dust-bins 
and  home-made  articles  of  furniture;  the  tins  for  gut- 
ters and  watering-cans  and  all  kinds  of  domestic  uten- 
sils.    .     .     . 

The  young  and  cultured  little  woman,  with  her  Ara- 
bian-Nights illusions,  was  tmable,  amid  these  first  im- 
pressions, to  distinguish  between  what  was  colonial — 
the  expedients  of  a  European  acclimatizing  himself  in  a 
country  which  is  alien  to  his  blood — and  what  was  really 
p<Detic,  genuinely  Indian,  purely  eastern,  absolutely 
Javanese ;  and,  because  of  these  and  other  little  absurdi- 
ties, she  had  at  once  felt  disappointed,  as  every  one  with 
artistic  inclination  feels  disappointed  in  colonial  India, 
which  is  not  at  all  artistic  or  poetic  and  in  which  the 
rose-trees  in  their  white  pots  are  scrupulously  manured 
with  horse-droppings  as  high  as  they  will  stand,  so  that, 
when  a  breeze  springs  up,  the  scent  of  the  roses  mingles 
with  a  stench  of  freslily-sprinkled  manure.  And  she 
had  grown  unjust,  as  does  every  Hollander,  every  new- 
comer to  the  beautiful  country  which  he  would  like  to 
see  with  the  eyes  of  his  preconceived  literary  vision,  but 


54  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

which  impresses  him  at  first  by  its  absurd  colonial  side. 
And  she  forgot  that  the  country  itself,  which  was  origi- 
nally so  absolutely  beautiful,  was  in  no  way  to  blame 
for  this  absurdity. 

She  had  had  a  couple  of  years  of  it  and  had  been  as- 
tonished, occasionally  alarmed,  then  again  shocked,  had 
laughed  sometimes  and  then  again  been  annoyed  and  at 
last,  with  the  reasonableness  of  her  nature  and  the 
practical  side  of  her  artistic  soul,  had  grown  accustomed 
to  it  all.  She  had  grown  accustomed  to  the  toe-exer- 
cises, to  the  manure  around  the  roses ;  she  had  grown 
accustomed  to  her  husband,  who  was  no  longer  a 
human  being,  no  longer  a  man,  but  an  official.  She  had 
suffered  a  great  deal,  she  had  written  despairing  letters, 
she  had  been  sick  with  longing  for  the  home  of  her 
parents,  she  had  been  on  the  verge  of  making  a  sudden 
departure,  but  she  had  not  gone,  so  as  not  to  leave 
her  husband  in  his  loneliness,  and  she  had  accustomed 
herself  to  things  and  made  the  best  of  them.  She  had 
not  only  the  soul  of  an  artist — she  played  the  piano  ex- 
ceptionally well — but  also  the  heart  of  a  plucky  little 
woman.  She  had  gone  on  loving  her  husband  and  she 
felt  that,  after  all,  she  provided  him  with  a  pleasant 
home.  She  gave  serious  attention  to  the  education  of 
her  child.  And,  once  she  had  become  accustomed  to 
things,  she  grew  less  unjust  and  suddenly  saw  much  of 
what  was  beautiful  in  India,  admired  the  stately  grace 
of  a  coco-palm,  the  exquisite,  paradisial  flavour  of  the 
Indian  fruits,  the  glory  of  the  blossoming  trees;  and,  in 
the  inland  districts,  she  had  realized  the  noble  majesty 
of  nature,  the  harmony  of  the  imdulating  hills,  the 
faery  forests  of  gigantic  ferns,  the  menacing  ravines  of 
the  craters,  the  shimmering  terraces  of  the  flooded 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  55 

sazvahs/-  with  the  tender  green  of  the  young  paddy;  and 
the  character  of  the  Javanese  had  been  a  very  revelation 
to  her:  his  elegance,  his  grace,  his  salutation  and  his 
dance,  his  aristocratic  distinction,  so  often  evidently 
handed  down  directly  from  a  noble  race,  from  an  age- 
old  chivalry,  now  modernized  into  a  diplomatic  supple- 
ness, worshipping  authority  by  nature  and  inevitably 
resigned  under  the  yoke  of  the  rulers  whose  gold-lace 
arouses  his  innate  respect. 

In  her  father's  house,  Eva  had  always  felt  around  her 
the  cult  of  the  artistic  and  the  beautiful,  even  to  the 
verge  of  decadence;  those  with  her  had  always  directed 
her  attention,  in  an  environment  of  perfectly  beautiful 
things,  in  beautiful  words,  in  music,  to  the  plastic 
beauty  of  life  and  perhaps  too  exclusively  to  that  alone. 
And  she  was  now  too  well  trained  in  that  school  of 
beauty  to  persist  in  her  disappointment  and  to  see  only 
the  whitewash  and  flimsiness  of  the  houses,  the  petty 
airs  of  the  officials,  the  Devoe  packing-cases  and  the 
horse-droppings.  Her  literary  mind  now  saw  the 
palatial  character  of  the  houses,  the  typical  character  of 
that  official  pride,  which  could  hardly  be  different  from 
what  it  was;  and  she  saw  all  these  details  more  ac- 
curately, obtaining  a  broader  insight  into  all  that  world 
of  India,  until  revelation  followed  upon  revelation. 
Only  she  continued  to  feel  something  strange,  some- 
thing that  she  could  not  analyse,  a  certain  mystery  and 
dark  secrecy,  which  she  felt  creeping  softly  over  the 
land  at  night.  But  she  thought  that  it  was  no  more 
than  a  mood  produced  by  the  darkness  and  the  very 
dense  foliage,  that  it  was  like  the  very  quiet  music  of 
stringed  instntments  of  a  kind  quite  strange  to  her,  a 

*  Rice-fields. 


56  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

distant  murmur  of  harps  in  a  minor  key,  a  vague  voice 
of  warning,  a  whispering  in  the  night — ^no  more — 
which  evoked  poetic  imaginings. 

At  Labuwangi,  a  small  inland  capital,  she  often  as- 
tonished the  acclimatized  up-country  elements  because 
she  was  somewhat  excitable,  because  she  was  enthusi- 
astic, spontaneous,  glad  to  be  alive — even  in  India — 
glad  of  the  beauty  of  life,  because  she  had  a  healthy 
nature,  softly  tempered  and  shaded  into  a  charming  pose 
of  caring  for  nothing  but  the  beautiful:  beautiful  lines, 
beautiful  colours,  artistic  ideas.  Those  w^ho  knew  her 
either  disliked  her  or  were  very  fond  of  her:  few  felt 
indifferent  to  her.  She  had  gained  a  reputation  in  India 
for  unusualness:  her  house  was  unusual,  her  clothes 
unusual,  the  education  of  her  child  unusual ;  her  ideas 
were  unusual  and  the  only  ordinary  thing  about  her 
was  her  Frisian  husband,  who  was  almost  too  ordi- 
nary in  that  environment,  which  might  have  been  cut 
out  of  an  art  magazine.  She  was  fond  of  society  and 
gathered  around  her  as  much  of  the  European  element 
as  possible:  it  was,  indeed,  seldom  artistic;  but  she  im- 
parted a  pleasant  tone  to  it,  something  that  reminded 
everybody  of  Holland.  This  little  clique,  this  group  ad- 
mired her  and  instinctively  adopted  the  tone  wdiich  she 
set.  Because  of  her  greater  culture,  she  ruled  over  it, 
though  she  was  not  a  despot  by  nature.  But  not  every- 
body approved  of  all  this;  and  the  others  called  her 
eccentric.  The  clique,  however,  the  group  remained 
faithful  to  her,  for  she  awakened  them,  in  the  soft 
languor  of  Indian  life,  to  the  existence  of  music,  ideas, 
and  the  joie  dc  vivre.  So  she  had  drawn  into  her  circle 
the  doctor  and  his  wife,  the  chief  engineer  and  his  wife, 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  57 

the  controleur-kottd^  and  his  wife  and  sometimes  a 
couple  of  outside  controllers,  or  a  few  young  fellows 
from  the  sugar-factories.  This  brought  round  her  a 
merry  little  band  of  adherents.  She  ruled  over  them, 
organized  amateur  theatricals  for  them,  picnicked  with 
them  and  charmed  them  with  her  house  and  her  frocks 
and  the  epicurean  and  artistic  flavour  of  her  life.  They 
forgave  her  everything  that  they  did  not  understand — 
her  aesthetic  principles,  her  enthusiasm  for  Wagner — 
because  she  gave  them  merriment  and  a  little  joie  de 
vivrc  and  a  sociable  feeling  in  the  deadliness  of  their 
colonial  existence.  For  this  they  were  ferv-ently  grate- 
ful to  her.  And  thus  it  had  come  about  that  her  house 
became  the  actual  centre  of  the  social  life  of  Labuwangi, 
whereas  the  residency,  on  the  other  hand,  withdrew 
with  dignified  reserve  into  the  shadow  of  its  waringin- 
trees.  Leonie  van  Oudijck  was  not  jealous  on  this  ac- 
count. She  loved  her  repose  and  was  only  too  glad  to 
leave  everything  to  Eva  Eldersma.  And  so  Leonie 
troubled  about  nothing — neither  entertainments  nor 
musical  societies  and  dramatic  societies  and  charities — 
and  delegated  to  Eva  all  the  social  duties  which  as  a  rule 
a  resident's  wife  feels  bound  to  take  upon  herself. 
Leonie  had  her  monthly  receptions,  at  which  she  spoke 
to  everybody  and  smiled  upon  everybody,  and  gave  her 
annual  ball  on  New  Year's  Day.  With  this  the  social 
life  of  the  residency  began  and  ended.  Apart  from  this 
she  lived  there  in  her  egoism,  in  the  comfort  with  which 
she  had  selfishly  surrounded  herself,  in  her  rosy  dreams 
of  cherubs  and  in  such  love  as  she  was  able  to  eather. 
Sometimes,  periodically,  she  felt  a  need  for  Batavia  and 
went  to  spend  a  month  or  two  there.    And  so  she,  as  the 

^  Local  controller. 


58  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

resident's  wife,  led  her  own  life ;  and  Eva  did  everything 
and  Eva  set  the  tone.  It  sometimes  gave  rise  to  a  little 
jealousy,  as  for  instance  between  her  and  the  wife  of 
the  inspector  of  finances,  who  considered  that  the  first 
place  after  Mrs.  van  Oudijck  belonged  to  her  and  not 
to  the  secretary's  wife.  This  would  occasion  a  good 
deal  of  bickering  over  the  Indian  official  etiquette ;  and 
stories  and  tittle-tattle  would  go  the  rounds,  enhanced, 
aggravated,  until  they  reached  the  remotest  sugar-fac- 
tory in  the  district.  But  Eva  took  no  notice  of  all  this 
gossip  and  preferred  to  devote  herself  to  providing  a 
little  sociableness  at  Labuwangi.  And,  to  keep  things 
going  properly,  she  and  her  little  circle  ruled  the  roost. 
She  had  been  elected  president  of  the  Thalia  Dramatic 
Society  and  she  accepted,  but  on  condition  that  the  rules 
should  be  abolished.  She  was  willing  to  be  queen,  but 
without  a  constitution.  Everybody  said  that  this  would 
never  do :  there  had  always  been  rules.  But  Eva  replied 
that,  if  there  were  to  be  rules,  she  must  refuse  to  be 
president.  And  they  gave  way:  the  constitution  of  the 
Thalia  was  abolished;  Eva  held  absolute  sway,  chose 
the  plays  and  distributed  the  parts.  And  it  was  the 
golden  age  of  the  society:  rehearsed  by  her,  the  mem- 
bers acted  so  well  that  people  came  from  Surabaya  to 
attend  the  performances  at  the  Concordia.  The  pieces 
played  were  of  a  quality  such  as  had  never  been  seen  at 
the  Concordia  before. 

And  the  result  of  this  again  was  that  people  either 
loved  her  or  did  not  like  her  at  all.  But  she  went  her 
way  and  provided  a  little  European  civilization,  so  that 
they  might  not  grow  too  "musty"  at  Labuwangi.  And 
people  descended  to  all  sorts  of  trickery  to  get  invited  to 
her  little  dinners,  which  were  famous  and  notorious. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  59 

For  she  stipulated  that  her  men  should  come  in  dress- 
clothes  and  not  in  their  Singapore  jackets,  without 
shirts.  She  introduced  swallow-tails  and  white  ties ;  and 
she  was  inexorable.  The  women  were  low-necked,  as 
usual,  for  the  sake  of  coolness,  and  thought  it  delight- 
ful. But  her  poor  men  struggled  against  it,  puffed  and 
blew  at  first  and  felt  congested  in  their  tall  collars ;  the 
doctor  declared  that  it  was  unhealthy ;  and  the  veterans 
protested  that  it  was  madness  and  opposed  to  all  the 
good  old  Indian  habits. 

But  when  they  had  puffed  and  blow^n  a  few  times  in 
their  dress-coats  and  tall  collars,  they  all  found  Mrs. 
Eldersma's  dinners  charming,  precisely  because  they 
were  so  European  in  style. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Eva  was  at  home  to  her  friends  once  a  fortnight: 

"You  see,  resident,  it's  not  a  reception,"  she  always 
said,  in  self-defence,  to  Van  Oudijck.  "I  know  that  no 
one's  allowed  to  'receive'  in  the  interior,  except  the  resi- 
dent and  his  wife.  It's  really  not  a  reception,  resident. 
I  couldn't  dare  to  call  it  that.  I'm  just  at  home  to 
everybody  once  a  fortnight ;  and  I'm  glad  if  our  friends 
care  to  come.  .  .  .  It's  all  right,  isn't  it,  resident, 
as  long  as  it's  not  a  'reception'  ?" 

Van  Oudijck  would  laugh  merrily,  with  his  jovial 
laugh  shaking  his  military  moustache,  and  ask  if  little 
Mrs.  Eldersma  was  pulling  his  leg.  She  could  do  any- 
thing, if  she  would  only  continue  to  provide  a  little 
gaiety,  a  little  acting,  a  little  music,  a  little  pleasant  inter- 
course. That  was  her  duty,  once  and  for  all :  to  look 
after  the  social  element  at  Labuwangi. 

There  was  nothing  Indian  about  her  at-home-days. 
For  instance,  at  the  resident's,  the  receptions  were  regu- 
lated according  to  the  old-Indian,  up-country  practice : 
all  the  ladies  sat  side  by  side,  on  chairs  along  the  walls ; 
Mrs.  van  Oudijck  walked  past  them  and  talked  to  each 
for  a  moment  in  turn,  standing,  while  they  remained  sit- 
ting ;  the  resident  chatted  to  the  men  in  another  gallery. 
The  male  and  female  elements  kept  apart ;  gin-and-bit- 
ters,  port  and  iced  water  were  handed  round. 

At  Eva's  people  strolled  about,  walked  through  the 
galleries,  sat  down  anywhere  they  pleased;  everybody 
talked  to  everybody.  There  was  not  the  same  ceremony 
as  at  the  resident's,  but  there  was  all  the  chic  of  a 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  61 

French  drawing-room,  with  an  artistic  touch  to  it.  And 
it  had  become  a  custom  for  the  ladies  to  dress  more  for 
Eva's  days  than  for  the  resident's  receptions :  at  Eva's 
they  wore  hats,  a  symbol  of  extreme  elegance  in  India. 
Fortunately,  Leonie  did  not  care ;  it  left  her  totally  in- 
different. 

Leonie  was  now  sitting  in  the  middle  gallery,  on  a 
couch,  and  remained  sitting  with  the  Raden-Aju,  the 
wife  of  the  regent.  She  thought  that  old  custom  pleas- 
ant: everybody  came  up  to  her,  whereas  at  her  own  re- 
ceptions she  had  to  do  so  much  walking,  past  the  row  of 
ladies  along  the  wall.  Now  she  took  her  ease,  remained 
sitting,  smiling  to  those  who  came  to  pay  her  their  re- 
spects. But,  apart  from  this,  there  \vas  a  restless  move- 
ment of  guests.    Eva  was  here,  there  and  everywhere. 

"Do  you  think  it's  pretty  here?"  ]\Irs.  van  der  Does 
asked  Leonie,  watli  a  glance  at  the  middle  gallery. 

And  her  eyes  wandered  in  surprise  over  the  dull 
arabesques,  painted  in  distemper  on  the  pale-grey  walls, 
like  frescoes;  over  the  djati^  w^ainscoting,  canned  by 
skillful  Chinese  cabinet-makers  after  a  drawing  in  the 
Studio;  over  the  bronze  Japanese  vases,  on  their  djati 
pedestals,  in  which  branches  of  bamboo  and  bouquets 
of  gigantic  flowers  cast  their  shadows  right  up  to  the 
ceiling. 

"Odd  ...  but  very  pretty!  Unusual!"  mur- 
mured Leonie  to  wdiom  Eva's  taste  was  always  a  conun- 
drum. 

Withdrawn  into  herself  as  a  temple  of  egoism,  she 
did  not  mind  what  others  did  or  felt,  nor  how  they 
arranged  their  houses.  But  she  could  not  have  lived 
here.     She  liked  her  own  lithographs — Veronese  and 

*  Teak-wood. 


62  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

Shakspeare  and  Tasso:  she  thought  them  distinguished 
— Hked  them  better  than  the  handsome  sepia  photo- 
graphs after  ItaHan  masters  which  Eva  had  standing 
here  and  there  on  easels.  Above  all,  she  loved  her 
chocolate-box  and  the  scent-advertisement  with  the 
little  angels. 

"Do  you  like  that  dress?'*  Mrs.  van  der  Does  asked 
next. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Leonie,  smiling  pleasantly.  "Eva's 
very  clever:  she  painted  those  blue  irises  herself,  on 
Chinese  silk.     .     .     ." 

She  never  said  anything  but  kind,  smiling  things. 
She  never  spoke  evil;  it  left  her  indifferent.  And  she 
now  turned  to  the  Raden-Aju  and  thanked  her  in 
kindly,  drawling  sentences  for  some  fruit  which  the 
latter  had  sent  her.  The  regent  came  to  speak  to  her 
and  she  asked  after  his  two  little  sons.  She  talked  in 
Dutch;  and  the  regent  and  the  Raden-Aju  both 
answered  in  Malay.  The  Regent  of  Labuwangi,  Raden 
Adipati  Surio  Sunario,  was  still  young,  just  turned 
thirty:  a  refined  Javanese  face  like  a  conceited  zvajang- 
puppet;  a  little  moustache,  with  the  points  carefully 
twisted;  and,  above  all,  a  staring  gaze  that  struck  the 
beholder:  a  gaze  that  stared  as  though  in  a  continuous 
trance;  a  gaze  that  seemed  to  pierce  the  visible  reality 
and  to  see  right  through  it ;  a  gaze  that  issued  from  eyes 
like  coals,  sometimes  dull  and  weary,  sometimes  flash- 
ing like  sparks  of  ecstasy  and  fanaticism.  Among  the 
population  which  was  almost  slavishly  attached  to  its 
regent  and  his  family,  he  enjoyed  a  reputation  for  sanc- 
tity and  mystery,  though  no  one  ever  knew  the  truth  of 
the  matter.  Here,  in  Eva's  gallery,  he  merely  produced 
the  impression  of  a  puppet-like  figure,  of  a  distin- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  63 

guished  Indian  prince,  save  that  his  trance-hke  eyes 
occasioned  surprise.  The  sarong,  drawn  smoothly 
around  his  hips,  hung  low  in  front  in  a  bundle  of  flat, 
regular  pleats,  which  fluttered  open ;  he  wore  a  white 
starched  shirt  with  diamond  studs  and  a  little  blue  tie ; 
over  this  w-as  a  blue  cloth  uniform-jacket,  with  gold 
uniform-buttons,  with  the  royal  W^  and  the  crown; 
his  bare  feet  were  encased  in  black,  patent-leather 
pumps  with  points  turned  up  at  the  toes ;  the  kerchief 
carefully  wound  about  his  head  in  narrow  folds  im- 
parted a  feminine  air  to  his  refined  features,  but  the 
black  eyes,  now  and  then  weary,  constantly  sparkled 
up  in  trance,  in  ecstasy.  The  golden  kris  was  stuck  in 
his  blue-and-gold  waistband,  right  behind,  In  the  small 
of  his  back;  a  large  jewel  glittered  on  his  small  and 
slender  hand ;  and  a  cigarette-case  of  braided  gold  wire 
peeped  from  the  pocket  of  his  jacket.  He  did  not  say 
much — sometimes  he  looked  as  though  he  were  asleep ; 
then  his  strange  eyes  would  flash  up  again — and  his 
replies  to  what  Leonie  said  consisted  almost  exclusively 
of  a  curt,  clipped:  "Saja.  .  .  ."'"  He  uttered 
the  two  syllables  with  a  hard,  sibilant  accent  of  po- 
liteness, laying  equal  stress  upon  each.  He  accom- 
panied his  little  word  of  civility  with  a  short,  automatic 
nod  of  the  head.  The  Raden-Aju  too,  seated  beside 
Leonie,  answered  in  the  same  way:  "Saja.  .  .  ." 
But  she  always  followed  it  up  wnth  a  little,  embarrassed 
laugh.  She  was  very  young  still,  possibly  just  eighteen. 
She  was  a  Solo  princess ;  and  Van  Oudi jck  could  not 
tolerate  her,  because  she  Introduced  Solo  manners  and 
Solo  expressions  into  LabuwangI,  In  her  conceited  arro- 
gance, as  though  nothing  could  be  so  distinguished  and 

^TTie  initial  of  Wilhelmina  Queen  of  the  Netlierlands. 

'  "^es." 


64  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

so  purely  aristrocratic  as  what  was  done  and  said  at  the 
court  of  Solo.  She  employed  court  phrases  which  the 
Labuwangi  population  did  not  understand;  she  had 
forced  the  regent  to  engage  a  Solo  coachman,  with  the 
Solo  state  livery,  including  the  wig  and  the  false  beard 
and  moustache,  at  which  the  people  stared  wide-eyed. 
Her  yellow  complexion  was  made  to  appear  yet  paler 
by  a  light  layer  of  bedak,  applied  moist ;  her  eyebrows 
were  slightly  arched  with  a  streak  of  black;  jewelled 
hairpins  were  stuck  in  her  glossy  konde^  and  a  kenanga- 
flower  in  her  girdle.  Over  a  kain-padjang,^  which, 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  Solo  court  was  long  and 
trailing,  in  front,  she  wore  a  kabaai  of  red  brocade,  re- 
lieved with  gold  braid  and  fastened  with  three  large 
gems.  Two  stones  of  fabulous  value,  moreover,  in 
heavy  silver  settings,  dragged  her  ears  down.  She 
wore  light-coloured,  open-work  stockings  and  gold  son- 
kef  slippers.  Her  little  thin  fingers  were  stiff  with 
rings,  as  though  set  in  brilliants ;  and  she  held  a  white 
marabou  fan  in  her  hand. 

"Saja  .  .  .  saja,"  she  answered,  civilly,  with 
her  embarrassed  little  laugh. 

Leonie  was  silent  for  a  moment,  tired  of  carrying 
on  the  conversation  by  herself.  When  she  had  spoken 
to  the  regent  and  the  Raden-Aju  about  their  sons,  she 
did  not  find  much  more  to  say.  Van  Oudijck,  after 
Eva  had  shown  him  round  the  galleries — for  there  was 
always  something  new  to  admire — joined  his  wife; 
the  regent  rose  to  his  feet. 

*  Chignon. 

*A  long,  embroidered  garment. 

'  Chinese  gold  embroidery. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  65 

"And,  regent,"  asked  the  resident,  in  Dutch,  "how 
is  the  Raden-Aju  Pangeran?" 

He  was  enquiring  after  Sunario's  mother,  the  old 
regent's  widow. 

"V^ery  well  .  .  .  thank  you,"  murmured  the 
regent,  in  Malay.  "But  mamma  didn't  come  with  us 
.     .     .     so  old     .     .     .     easily  tired." 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you,  regent." 

The  regent  followed  Van  Oudijck  into  the  front- 
verandah,  which  was  empty. 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  to  tell  you  that  I  have  just  had 
another  bad  report  of  your  brother,  the  Regent  of 
Ngadjiwa.  ...  I  am  informed  that  he  has  lately 
been  gambling  again  and  has  lost  large  sums  of  money. 
Do  you  know  anything  about  it?" 

The  regent  shut  himself  up,  as  it  were,  in  his  puppet- 
like stiffness  and  kept  silence.  Only  his  eyes  stared, 
as  though  gazing,  through  Van  Oudijck,  at  distant 
things. 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  it,  regent?" 

"Tida     .     .     .     ."^ 

"I  request  you,  as  head  of  the  family,  to  look  into  it 
and  to  keep  a  watch  upon  your  brother.  He  gambles, 
he  drinks;  he  does  your  name  no  credit,  regent.  If  the 
old  Pangeran  could  have  guessed  that  his  second  son 
would  go  to  the  dogs  like  this,  it  would  have  pained 
him  greatly.  He  held  his  name  high.  He  was  one  of 
the  wisest  and  noblest  regents  that  the  government  ever 
had  in  Java;  and  you  know  how  greatly  the  govern- 
ment valued  the  Pangeran.  Even  in  the  Company's 
days,  Holland  owed  much  to  your  house,  which  was 
always  loyal  to  her.    But  the  times  seem  to  be  altering. 

»"No." 


66  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

.  .  .  It  is  very  regrettable  regent,  that  an  old  Jav- 
anese family  with  such  lofty  traditions  as  yours  should 
be  unable  to  remain  faithful  to  those  traditions. 
•     *     • 

Raden  Adipati  Surlo  Sunario  turned  pale  with  a 
greenish  pallor.  His  hypnotic  eyes  pierced  the  resi- 
dent; but  he  saw  that  the  latter  also  was  boiling  with 
anger.  And  he  dimmed  the  strange  glitter  of  his  gaze 
into  a  drowsy  weariness: 

"I  thought,  resident,  that  you  had  always  felt  an 
affection  for  my  house,"  he  murmured,  almost  plain- 
tively. 

"And  you  thought  right,  regent.  I  loved  the  Pan- 
geran.  I  have  always  admired  your  house  and  have 
always  tried  to  uphold  it.  I  want  to  uphold  it  still, 
together  with  yourself,  regent,  hoping  that  you  see  not 
only,  as  your  reputation  suggests,  the  things  of  the 
next  world,  but  also  the  realities  about  you.  But  it  is 
your  brother,  regent,  whom  I  do  not  love  and  cannot 
possibly  esteem.  I  have  been  told — and  I  can  trust  the 
words  of  those  who  told  me — that  the  Regent  of  Ngad- 
jiwa  has  not  only  been  gambling  .  .  .  but  also 
that  he  has  failed  this  month  to  pay  the  heads  at  Ngad- 
jiwa  their  salaries.     .     .     ," 

They  looked  at  each  other  fixedly ;  and  Van  Oudijck's 
firm  and  steady  glance  met  the  regent's  hypnotic  gaze, 

"The  persons  who  act  as  your  informants  may  be 
mistaken.     .     ." 

"I  am  assuming  that  they  would  not  bring  me  such 
reports  without  the  most  incontestable  certainty. 
.  .  .  Regent,  this  is  a  very  delicate  matter.  I  re- 
peat, you  are  the  head  of  your  family.  Enquire  of  your 
younger  brother  to  what  extent  he  has  misapplied  the 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  67 

money  of  the  government  and  make  it  all  good  as  soon 
as  possible.  I  am  purposely  leaving  the  matter  to  you. 
I  will  not  speak  to  your  brother  about  it,  in  order  to 
spare  a  member  of  your  family  as  long  as  I  can.  It  is 
for  you  to  admonish  your  brother,  to  call  his  attention 
to  what  in  my  eyes  is  a  crime,  but  one  which  you 
through  your  prestige  as  head  of  the  family,  are  still 
able  to  undo.  Forbid  him  to  gamble  and  order  him  to 
master  his  passion.  Otherwise  I  foresee  very  grievous 
things  and  I  shall  have  to  propose  your  brother's  dis- 
missal. You  3'ourself  know  how  I  should  dislike  to 
do  that.  For  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa  is  the  second 
son  of  the  old  Pangeran,  whom  I  held  in  high  esteem, 
even  as  I  should  always  wash  to  spare  your  mother,  the 
Raden-Aju  Pangeran,  any  sorrow." 

"I  thank  you,"  murmured  Sunario. 

"Reflect  seriously  upon  what  I  am  saying  to  you, 
regent.  If  you  cannot  make  your  brother  listen  to 
reason,  if  the  salaries  of  the  heads  are  not  paid  at  the 
earliest  possible  date,  then  .  .  .  then  /  shall  have 
to  act.  And,  if  my  warning  is  of  no  avail,  then  it  means 
your  brother's  fall.  You  yourself  know,  the  dismissal 
of  a  regent  is  such  a  very  exceptional  thing  that  it 
would  bring  disgrace  upon  your  family.  Assist  me  in 
saving  the  house  of  the  Adiningrats  from  such  a  fate." 

"I  promise,"  murmured  the  regent. 

"Give  me  your  hand,  regent." 

Van  Oudijck  pressed  the  thin  fingers  of  the  Javanese: 

"Can  I  trust  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"In  life,  in  death." 

"Then  let  us  go  indoors.  And  tell  me  as  soon  as 
possible  what  you  have  discovered." 


68  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

The  regent  bowed.  A  greenish  pallor  betrayed  the 
silent,  secret  rage  which  was  working  inside  him  like 
the  fire  of  a  volcano.  His  eyes,  behind  Van  Oudijck's 
back,  darted  with  a  mysterious  hatred  at  the  Hollander, 
the  low-bom  Hollander,  the  base  commoner,  the  Infidel 
Christian,  who  had  no  business  to  feel  anything,  with 
that  unclean  soul  of  his,  concerning  him,  his  house,  his 
father,  his  mother,  or  their  supremely  sacred  aristoc- 
racy and  nobility  .  .  .  even  though  they  had  al- 
ways bowed  beneath  the  yoke  of  those  who  were 
stronger  than  they.     ,     *     . 


CHAPTER  IX 

"I  have  counted  on  your  staying  to  dinner,"  said  Eva. 

"Of  course,"  replied  Van  Helderen,  the  controller, 
and  his  wife. 

The  reception — ^not  a  reception,  as  Eva  always  said 
in  self-defence — was  nearly  over:  the  Van  Oudijcks 
had  been  the  first  to  go;  the  regent  followed.  The 
Eldersmas  were  left  with  their  little  band  of  intimates: 
Dr.  Rantzow  and  Doom  de  Bruijn,  the  senior  engineer, 
with  their  waves,  and  the  Van  Helderens.  They  sat 
down  in  the  front- verandah  with  a  certain  sense  of 
relief  and  rocked  comfortably  to  and  fro.  Whiskies- 
and-soda,  glasses  of  lemonade,  with  great  lumps  of  ice 
in  them,  were  handed  round. 

"Always  chock  full,  reception  at  Eva*s,"  so  Mrs.  van 
Helderen.  "Fuller  than  other  day  at  resident's. 
•     •     • 

Ida  van  Helderen  was  a  typical  little  white  nonna. 
She  always  tried  to  behave  in  a  very  European  fashion, 
to  talk  Dutch  nicely ;  she  even  pretended  to  speak  bad 
Malay  and  to  care  for  neither  rijsttafeP-  nor  rttjak.^ 
She  was  short  and  plump  all  over ;  she  was  very  white, 
a  dead  white,  with  big,  black,  astonished  eyes.  She 
was  full  of  little  mysterious  whims  and  hatreds  and 
affections ;  all  her  actions  were  the  result  of  mysterious 
little  impulses.  Sometimes  she  hated  Eva,  sometimes 
she  doted  on  her.    She  was  absolutely  unreliable:   her 

^  Literally  rice-tablc :  the  luncheon  consisting  mainly  of  curried 
dishes. 

'  Unripe  fruits,  sliced  and  mixed  with  vinegar,  soya  and  sugar. 


70  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

every  action,  every  movement,  every  word  might  be  a 
surprise.  She  was  always  in  love,  tragically.  She  took 
all  her  little  affairs  very  tragically,  on  a  very  large  and 
serious  scale,  with  not  the  least  sense  of  proportion,  and 
then  unbosomed  herself  to  Eva,  who  laughed  and  com- 
forted her. 

Her  husband,  the  controller,  had  never  been  in  Hol- 
land: he  had  been  educated  entirely  at  Batavia,  in  the 
William  HI.  College  and  the  Indian  Department.  And 
he  was  very  strange  to  see,  this  Creole,  apparently  quite 
European,  tall,  fair  and  pale,  with  his  fair  moustache, 
his  blue  eyes  expressing  animation  and  interest  and  his 
manners  which  displayed  a  finer  courtesy  than  could  be 
found  in  the  smartest  circles  of  Europe,  but  with  not  a 
\"estige  of  India  in  thought,  speech  or  dress.  He  w^ould 
speak  of  Paris  and  Vienna  as  though  he  had  spent 
years  in  both  capitals,  whereas  he  had  never  been  out 
of  Java;  he  was  mad  on  music,  though  he  found  a 
difficulty  in  appreciating  Wagner,  whom  Eva  was  so 
fond  of  playing ;  and  his  great  illusion  was  that  he  must 
really  go  to  Europe  on  leave  next  year,  to  see  the  Paris 
Exhibition.^  There  was  a  wonderful  distinction  and 
innate  style  about  young  Van  Helderen,  as  though  he 
were  not  the  offspring  of  European  parents  who  had 
always  lived  in  India,  as  though  he  were  a  foreigner 
from  an  unknown  country,  of  a  nationality  which  you 
could  not  place  at  once.  His  accent  barely  betrayed 
a  certain  softness,  resulting  from  the  climate ;  he  spoke 
Dutch  so  correctly  that  it  would  have  sounded  almost 
stiff  amid  the  slovenly  slang  of  the  mother-country; 
and  he  spoke  French,  English  and  German  with  greater 
facility  than  most  Dutchmen.     Perhaps  he  owed  to  a 

*0f  1900. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  71 

French  mother  that  exotic  politeness  and  courtesy,  in- 
nate, pleasant  and  natural.  In  his  wife,  who  was  also 
of  French  extraction,  springing  from  a  Creole  family 
in  Reunion,  this  exoticism  had  become  a  mysterious 
medley  which  had  never  developed  beyond  a  sort  of 
childishness  and  a  jumble  of  petty  emotions  and  petty 
passions,  while  she  tried  to  read  tragedy  into  her  life 
with  those  great,  sombre  eyes,  though  she  did  no  more 
than  just  dip  into  it  as  into  an  ill-written  magazine- 
story. 

She  imagined  herself  to  be  now  in  love  with  the 
senior  engineer,  the  oldest  of  the  little  band,  a  man 
already  turning  grey,  with  a  black  beard,  and,  in  her 
tragic  fashion,  she  pictured  scenes  with  Mrs.  Doom  de 
Bruijn,  a  stout,  placid,  melancholy  woman.  Dr.  Rant- 
zow  and  his  wife  were  Germans:  he  fat,  fair-haired, 
vulgar,  pot-bellied;  she,  with  a  serene  German  face, 
pleasant  and  matronly,  talking  Dutch  vivaciously  with 
a  German  accent. 

This  was  the  little  clique  over  which  Eva  Eldersma 
reigned.  In  addition  to  Frans  van  Helderen,  the  con- 
troller, it  consisted  of  quite  ordinary  Indian  and  Euro- 
pean elements,  people  without  artistic  sense,  as  Eva 
said ;  but  she  had  no  other  choice,  at  Labuwangi,  and 
therefore  she  amused  herself  with  Ida's  little  nonna 
tragedies  and  made  the  most  of  the  others.  Onno,  her 
husband,  tired  as  usual  with  his  work,  did  not  join 
much  In  the  conversation,  sat  and  listened. 

"How  long  was  Mrs.  van  Oudljck  at  Batavia?" 
asked  Ida. 

"Two  months,"  said  the  doctor's  wife.  "A  very 
long  visit,  this  time." 

"I  hear,"  said  Mrs.  Doom  de  Bruijn,  placid,  melan- 


72  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

choly  and  quietly  venomous,  "that  this  time  one  mem- 
ber of  council,  one  head  of  a  department  and  three 
young  business-men  kept  Mrs.  van  Oudijck  amused  at 
Batavia." 

"And  I  can  assure  you  people,"  said  the  doctor, 
"that,  if  Mrs.  van  Oudijck  did  not  go  to  Batavia  regu- 
larly, she  would  miss  a  beneficial  cure,  even  though 
she  takes  it  on  her  own  and  not  ...  by  my  pre- 
scription." 

"Let  us  speak  no  evil !"  Eva  interrupted,  almost  en- 
treatingly,  "Mrs.  van  Oudijck  is  beautiful — with  a 
tranquil  Junoesque  beauty  and  the  eyes  of  a  Venus — 
and  I  can  forgive  anything  to  beautiful  people  about 
me.  And  you,  doctor,"  threatening  him  with  her  fin- 
ger, "mustn't  betray  professional  secrets.  The  doctors 
in  India,  you  know,  are  often  far  too  outspoken  about 
their  patients'  secrets.  When  I'm  ill,  it's  never  any- 
thing but  a  headache.  Will  you  make  a  careful  note 
of  that,  doctor?" 

"The  resident  seems  preoccupied,"  said  Doom  de 
Bruijn. 

"Could  he  know  .  .  .  about  his  wife?"  asked 
Ida,  sombrely,  her  great  eyes  filled  with  black  velvet 
tragedy. 

"The  resident  is  often  like  that,"  said  Frans  van 
Helderen.  "He  has  his  moods.  Sometimes  he's  pleas- 
ant, cheerful,  jovial,  as  he  was  lately,  on  the  circuit. 
Then  again  he  has  his  gloomy  days,  working  and  work- 
ing and  grumbling  that  nobody  does  any  work  except 
himself." 

"My  poor,  unappreciated  Onno !"  sighed  Eva. 

"I  believe  he's  overworking  himself,"  said  Van 
Helderen.    "Labuwangi  is  a  tremendously  busy  dis- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  7Z 

trict.  And  the  resident  takes  things  too  much  to  heart, 
both  in  his  own  house  and  outside,  both  his  relations 
with  his  son  and  his  relations  with  the  regent." 

"I  should  sack  the  regent,"  said  the  doctor. 

"But,  doctor,"  said  Van  Helderen,  "you  know 
enough  about  our  conditions  in  Java  to  know  that 
things  can't  be  done  just  like  that.  The  regent  and  his 
family  are  closely  identified  with  Labuwangi  and  too 
highly  considered  by  the  population.     .     .     ." 

"Yes,  I  know  the  Dutch  policy.  The  English  in 
British  India  deal  with  their  Indian  princes  in  a  more 
arbitrary  and  high-handed  fashion.  The  Dutch  treat 
them  much  too  gently." 

"The  question  might  arise  which  of  the  two  policies 
is  the  better  in  the  long  run,"  said  Van  Helderen,  drily, 
hating  to  hear  a  foreigner  disparage  anything  in  a 
Dutch  colony.  "Fortunately,  w^e  know  nothing  here  of 
the  continual  poverty  and  famine  that  prevail  in  British 
India." 

"I  saw  the  resident  speaking  very  seriously  to  the 
regent,"  said  Doom  de  Bruijn. 

"The  resident  is  too  susceptible,"  said  Van  Helderen. 
"He  allows  himself  to  be  very  much  dejected  by  the 
gradual  decline  of  that  old  Javanese  family,  which  is 
doomed  to  be  ruined  and  which  he  would  like  to  uphold. 
The  resident,  cool  and  practical  though  he  be,  Ts  a  bit 
of  a  romantic  in  this,  though  he  might  refuse  to  admit 
it.  But  he  remembers  the  Adiningrats'  glorious  past, 
he  remembers  that  last  fine  figure,  the  noble  old  Pan- 
geran,  and  he  compares  him  with  his  sons,  the  one  a 
fanatic,  the  other  a  gambler.     .     .     ." 

"I  think  our  regent — not  the  Ngadjiwa  one:  he's  a 
coolie — delightful !"  said  Eva.    "He's  a  living  zvajang- 


74  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

puppet.  Except  his  eyes:  they  frighten  me.  What 
terrible  eyes !  Sometimes  they're  asleep  and  sometimes 
they're  like  a  maniac's.  But  he  is  so  refined,  so  dis- 
tinguished! And  the  Raden-Aju  too  is  an  exquisite 
little  doll:  'Saja  .  .  .  saja!'  She  says  nothing, 
but  she  looks  very  decorative.  I'm  always  glad  when 
they  adorn  my  at-home-day  and  I  miss  them  when 
they're  not  there.  And  the  old  Raden-Aju  Pangeran, 
grey-haired,  dignified,  a  queen     . 

"A  gambler  of  the  first  water,"  said  Eldersma. 

"They  gamble  away  all  they  possess,"  said  Van 
Helderen,  "she  and  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa.  They're 
no  longer  rich.  The  old  Pangeran  used  to  have  splen- 
did insignia  of  rank  for  state  occasions,  magnificent 
lances,  a  jewelled  sirilv-hox,^  spittoons — useful  objects, 
those! — of  priceless  value.  The  old  Raden-Aju  has 
gambled  them  all  away.  I  doubt  if  she  has  anything 
left  but  her  pension :  two  hundred  and  forty  guilders,^ 
I  believe.  And  how  our  regent  manages  to  keep  all 
his  cousins,  male  and  female,  in  the  Kahiipaten,^  ac- 
cording to  the  Javanese  custom,  is  beyond  me." 

''What's  that  custom?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"Every  regent  collects  his  whole  family  around  him 
like  parasites,  clothes  them,  feeds  them,  provides  them 
with  pocket-money  .  .  .  and  the  natives  think  it 
dignified  and  smart." 

"Sad  .  .  .  that  ruined  greatness!"  said  Ida, 
gloomily. 

A  boy  came  to  announce  dinner  and  they  went  to  the 

*  A  gold  or  silver  casket  containing  the  ingredients  with  which 
to  prepare  betel-pepper  for  chewing. 
"  £20  a  month. 
■  The  regent's  palace. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  75 

back-verandah  and  sat  down  to  table. 

"And  what  have  you  in  prospect  for  us,  mev- 
rou\vtje?"  asked  the  senior  engineer.  "What  are  the 
plans?    Labuwangi  has  been  very  quiet  lately." 

"It's  really  terrible,"  said  Eva.  "If  I  hadn't  all  of 
you,  it  would  be  terrible.  If  I  weren't  always  planning 
something  and  having  ideas,  it  would  be  terrible,  this 
existence  at  Labuwangi.  My  husband  doesn't  feel  it ; 
he  works,  as  all  you  men  do:  what  else  is  there  to  do 
in  India  but  work,  regardless  of  the  heat?  But  for  us 
women!  What  a  life,  if  we  didn't  find  our  happiness 
purely  in  ourselves,  in  our  home,  in  our  friends  .  .  . 
when  we  have  the  good  fortune  to  possess  those  friends ! 
Nothing  from  the  outside.  Not  a  picture,  not  a  statue 
to  look  at ;  no  music  to  listen  to.  Don't  be  cross.  Van 
Helderen.  You  play  the  'cello  charmingly,  but  nobody 
in  India  can  keep  up  to  date.  The  Italian  Opera  plays 
Trovatore.  The  amateur  companies — and  they're 
really  first-rate  at  Batavia — play  .  .  .  Trovatore. 
And  you.  Van  Helderen  .     .     don't  object.    I  saw 

you  in  an  ecstasy  when  the  Italian  company  from  Suru- 
baya  was  here  lately,  at  the  club,  and  played  .  .  . 
Trovatore.    You  were  enchanted." 

"There  were  some  beautiful  voices  among  them." 

"But  twenty  years  ago,  so  they  tell  me,  people  here 
were  also  enchanted  with  .  .  .  Trovatore.  Oh, 
it's  terrible!  Sometimes,  suddenly,  It  oppresses  me. 
Sometimes,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  feel  that  I  have  not  grown 
used  to  India  and  that  I  never  shall;  and  I  begin  to 
long  for  Europe,  for  life !" 

"But  Eva,"  Eldersma  began,  in  alarm,  dreading  lest 
she  should  really  go  home  one  day,  leaving  him  alone 
in  what  would  then  be  his  utterly  joyless  working-life 


7e  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

at  Labuwangi,  "sometimes  you  do  appreciate  India: 
)'our  house,  the  pleasant,  spacious  hfe.     .     ." 

"Materially.     .     ." 

"And  don't  you  appreciate  your  own  work,  I  mean 
the  many  things  which  you  are  able  to  do  here?" 

"What?  Getting*  up  parties?  Arranging  theat- 
ricals?" 

"It's  you  who  are  the  real  rezidcnte"'^  said  Ida  gush- 
ingly. 

"Thank  goodness,  we're  coming  back  to  Mrs.  van 
Oudijck,"  said  Mrs.  Doom  de  Bruijn,  teasingly. 

"And  to  professional  secrecy,"  said  Dr.  Rantzow. 

"No,"  sighed  Eva,  "we  want  something  new. 
Dances,  parties,  picnics,  trips  into  the  mountains 
.  .  .  we've  exhausted  all  that.  I  know  nothing 
more.  The  Indian  depression's  coming  over  me.  I'm 
in  one  of  my  dejected  moods.  Those  brown  faces  of 
my  'boys'  around  me  suddenly  strike  me  as  uncanny. 
India  frightens  me  at  times.  Do  none  of  you  feel  the 
same  ?  A  vague  dread,  a  mystery  in  the  air,  something 
menacing.  .  .  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  The  eve- 
nings are  sometimes  so  full  of  mystery  and  there  is 
something  mystic  in  the  character  of  the  native,  who 
is  remote  from  us,  who  differs  from  us  so.     .     .     ." 

"Artistic  feelings,"  said  Van  Helderen,  chaffingly. 
"No,  I  don't  feel  like  that.    India  is  my  country." 

"You  type!"  said  Eva,  chaffing  him  in  return. 
**What  makes  you  what  you  are,  so  curiously  Euro- 
pean ?    I  can't  call  it  Dutch." 

"My  mother  was  a  Frenchwoman." 

"But,  after  all,  you're  a  njo:-  born  here,  brought  up 

*  Resident's  wife. 
'Abbreviation  of  sinjo. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  77 

here.  .  .  .  And  you  have  nothing  of  a  n']o  about 
you.  I  think  it's  wonderful  to  have  met  you:  I  hke 
you  as  a  change.  .  .  .  Help  me,  can't  you?  Sug- 
gest something  new.  Not  a  dance  and  not  a  trip  in  the 
mountains.  I  want  something  new.  Else  I  shall  get 
a  craving  for  my  father's  paintings,  for  my  mother's 
singing,  for  our  beautiful,  artistic  house  at  the  Hague. 
If  I  don't  have  something  new,  I  shall  die.  I'm  not 
like  your  wife,  Van  Helderen,  always  in  love." 

"Eva!"  Ida  entreated. 

"Tragically  in  love,  with  her  beautiful,  sombre  eyes. 
Always,  first  with  her  husband  and  then  with  somebody 
else.  I  am  never  in  love.  Not  even  any  longer  with 
my  husband.  He  is  .  .  .  with  me.  But  I  have 
not  an  amorous  nature.  There's  a  great  deal  of  love- 
making  in  India,  isn't  there,  doctor?  .  .  .  Well, 
we've  ruled  out  dances,  excursions  in  the  mountains 
and  love-making.  What  then,  in  Heaven's  name,  what 
then?" 

"I  know  of  something,"  said  Mrs.  Doom  de  Bruijn ; 
and  a  sudden  anxiety  came  over  her  placid  melancholy. 

She  gave  a  side-glance  at  ]\Irs.  Rantzow ;  the  German 
woman  grasped  her  meaning. 

"What  Is  it?"  asked  the  others,  eagerly. 

"Table-turning,"  whispered  the  two  ladies. 

There  was  a  general  laugh. 

"Oh  dear!"  sighed  Eva,  disappointed.  "A  trick,  a 
joke,  an  evening's  amusement.  No,  I  want  something 
that  will  fill  my  life  for  at  least  a  month." 

"Table-turning,"  repeated  Mrs.  Rantzow. 

"Listen  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Doom  de  Bruijn.  "The 
other  day,  for  a  joke,  we  tried  making  a  gipsy-table 
turn.     We   all   promised   not  to   cheat.      The  table 


1Z  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

,  .  .  moved,  spelt  out  words,  tapping  them  out  by 
tlie  alphabet." 

*'But  was  there  no  cheating?"  asked  the  doctor, 
Eldersma  and  Van  Helderen. 

"You'll  have  to  trust  us,"  declared  the  two  ladies, 
in  self-defence. 

"All  right,"  said  Eva.  "We've  finished  dinner. 
Let's  have  some  table-turning." 

"We  must  all  promise  not  to  cheat,"  said  Mrs. 
Rantzow.  "I  can  see  that  my  husband  will  be 
.  .  .  antipathetic.  But  Ida  ...  a  great 
medium." 

They  rose. 

"Must  we  have  the  lights  out  ?"  asked  Eva. 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Doom  de  Bruijn. 

"An  ordinary  gipsy-table?" 

*'A  three-legged  wooden  table." 

"The  eight  of  us?" 

"No,  we  must  begin  by  choosing:  for  instance,  your- 
self, Eva,  Ida,  Van  Helderen  and  Mrs.  Rantzow.  The 
doctor's  antipathetic ;  so  is  Eldersma.  De  Bruijn  and  I 
will  relieve  you." 

"Off  we  go,  then !"  said  Eva.  "A  new  diversion  for 
Labuwangi  society.    And  no  cheating.     .     ." 

"We  must  give  one  anotlier  our  word  of  honour,  as 
friends,  not  to  cheat." 

''Done!"  they  all  said. 

The  doctor  sniggered.  Eldersma  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  A  boy  brought  a  gipsy-table.  They  sat 
round  the  little  wooden  table  and  placed  their  fingers 
on  it  lightly,  looking  at  one  another  expectantly  and 
suspiciously.  Mrs.  Rantzow  was  solemn,  Eva  amused, 
Ida  sombre.  Van  Helderen  smilingly  indifferent.    Sud- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  79 

denly  a  strained  expression  came  over  Ida's  beautiful 
nomia-ivLce. 

The  table  quivered.     .     .     . 

They  exchanged  frightened  glances;  the  doctor  snig- 
gered. 

Then,  slowly,  the  table  tilted  one  of  its  three  legs  and 
carefully  put  it  down  again. 

"Did  anybody  move?"  asked  Eva. 

They  all  shook  their  heads.    Ida  had  turned  pale : 

*T  feel  a  trembling  in  my  fingers,"  she  murmured. 

The  table  once  more  tilted  its  leg,  described  an  angry, 
grating  semicircle  over  the  marble  floor  and  put  its  leg 
down  with  a  violent  stamp. 

They  looked  at  one  another  in  surprise.  Ida  sat  as 
though  bereft  of  life,  staring,  with  fingers  outspread, 
ecstatically. 

And  the  table  tilted  its  leg  for  the  third  time. 

It  was  certainly  very  curious.  Eva  doubted  for  a 
moment  whether  Mrs.  Rantzow  was  lifting  the  table, 
but,  when  she  questioned  her  with  a  glance,  the  German 
doctor's  wife  shook  her  head  and  Eva  saw  that  she  was 
playing  fair.  They  once  more  promised  absolute 
honesty.  And,  when  they  were  now  certain  of  one 
another,  in  full  confidence,  it  was  most  curious  how 
the  table  continued  to  describe  angry,  grating  semi- 
circles, tilting  one  leg  and  tapping  on  the  marble  floor. 

"Is  there  a  spirit  present,  revealing  Itself?"  asked 
Mrs.  Rantzow,  with  a  glance  at  the  leg  of  the  table. 

The  table  tapped  once: 

"Yes." 

But,  when  the  spirit  was  asked  to  spell  its  name,  to 
tap  out  the  letters  of  its  name  by  the  letters  of  the 
alphabet,  all  that  came  was: 

"Z  X  R  S  A." 


»f 


80  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

The  manifestation  was  incomprehensible. 

Suddenly,  however,  the  table  began  spelling  hur- 
riedly, as  though  it  had  something  at  its  heels.  The 
taps  were  counted  and  spelt: 

"Le     .     .     .     onie     Ou     .     .     .     dijck.     .     . 

"What  about  Mrs.  van  Oudijck?" 

A  coarse  word  followed. 

The  ladies  started,  excepting  Ida,  who  sat  as  though 
in  a  trance. 

"The  table  has  spoken.  .  .  .  What  did  it  say? 
.  .  .  What  is  Mrs.  van  Oudijck?"  cried  the  voices, 
all  speaking  at  once. 

"It's  incredible !"  mumiured  Eva,  "Are  we  all  play- 
ing fair?" 

They  all  protested  their  honesty. 

"Let  us  really  be  honest,  else  there's  no  fun  in  it. 
.     .     .     I  wish  I  could  be  certain." 

They  all  wished  that:  Mrs.  Rantzow,  Ida,  Van 
Helderen,  Eva.  The  others  looked  on  eagerly,  believ- 
ing ;  but  the  doctor  did  not  believe  and  sat  sniggering. 

Again  the  table  grated  angrily  and  tapped:  and  the 
leg  repeated : 

"A     .     .     ." 

And  the  leg  repeated  the  coarse  word. 

"Why?"  asked  Mrs.  Rantzow. 

The  table  began  to  tap. 

"Take  down,  Onno!"  said  Eva  to  her  husband. 

Eldersma  fetched  a  pencil  and  paper  and  took  down. 

Three  names  followed:  one  of  a  member  of  council, 
one  of  a  departmental  head,  one  of  a  young  business- 
man. 

"When  people  aren't  backbiting  in  India,  the  tables 
begin  to  backbite !"  said  Eva. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  81 

"The  spirits,"  murmured  Ida. 

"These  are  generally  mocking  spirits,"  said  Mrs. 
Rantzow,  didactically. 

But  the  table  went  on  tapping. 

"Take  down,  Onno !"  said  Eva. 

Eldersma  took  down. 

"A-d-d-i-e !"  the  leg  tapped  out. 

"No!"  the  voices  all  cried  together,  in  vehement 
denial.  "This  time  the  table's  mistaken !  ...  At 
least,  young  De  Luce  has  never  yet  been  mentioned  in 
connection  with  Mrs.  van  Oudijck." 

"T-h-e-o!"  said  the  table,  correcting  itself. 

"Her  step-son!  .  .  .  It's  terrible!  .  .  . 
That's  different!  .  .  .  Everybody  knows  It!" 
cried  the  voices  in  assent. 

"But  we  know  that!"  said  Mrs.  Rantzow,  with  a 
glance  at  the  leg  of  the  table.  "Come,  tell  us  something 
we  don't  know.     Come  table!    Come,  spirit!    Please! 

She  addressed  the  table-leg  in  coaxing,  wheedling 
accents.     Everybody  laughed.     The  table  grated. 

"Be  serious!"  Mrs.  Doom  de  Bruijn  said,  in  warn- 
ing. 

The  table  bumped  down  In  Ida's  lap. 

"Adii!"^  cried  the  pretty  nonna,  waking  out  of  her 
trance.     "Right  against  my  stomach !" 

They  laughed  and  laughed.  The  table  turned  round 
fiercely  and  they  rose  from  their  chairs,  with  their 
hands  on  the  table,  and  accompanied  its  angry,  waltzing 
movements. 

"Next     .     .     .     year,"  the  table  rapped  out. 

Eldersma  took  down, 

"Frightful     .     .     .     war.     .     , 

'"Oh  my!" 


tt 


82  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"Between  whom?     .     .     ."^ 
"Europe     .     .     .     and     .     .     .     China." 
"It  sounds  hke  a  fairy-tale !"  grinned  the  doctor. 
"La     .     .     .     bu     .     .     .     wangj,"     tapped     the 
table, 

"What  about  it?"  they  asked. 
'Is     .     .     .     a     .     .     .     beastly     .     .     .     hole. 


"Is 


'Say  something  serious,  table,  do!"  Mrs.  Rantzow 
implored,  pleasantly,  in  her  best  German-matron  man- 


ner, 


Dan     .     .     .     ger,"  the  table  tapped  out. 

"Where?" 

"Threat  .  .  .  ens,"  the  table  continued,  "La 
.     .     .     bu     .     .     .     wangi." 

"Danger  threatens  Labuwangi  ?" 

"Yes !"  said  the  table,  with  one  tap,  angrily. 

"What  danger?" 

"Rebellion." 

"Rebellion?    Who's  going  to  rebel?" 

"In     .     ,     .     two  months     .     .     .     Sunari»." 

They  became  thoughtful. 

But  the  table,  suddenly,  unexpectedly,  fell  over  into 
Ida's  lap  again. 

"Adu!  Adii!"  cried  the  little  woman. 

The  table  refused  to  go  on. 

"Tired,"  it  tapped  out. 

They  continued  to  hold  their  hands  on  it. 

"Leave  off,"  said  the  table. 

The  doctor,  sniggering,  laid  his  short,  broad  hand 
on  it,  as  though  to  compel  It. 

"Go  to  blazes !"  cried  the  table,  grating  and  turning. 
''Boimder!" 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  83 

And  worse  words  followed,  aimed  at  the  doctor,  as 
though  by  a  street-boy:  obscene  words,  senseless  and 
incoherent. 

"Who's  suggesting  those  words?"  asked  Eva,  indig- 
nantly. 

Obviously  no  one  was  suggesting  them,  neither  the 
three  ladies  nor  Van  Helderen,  who  was  always  very 
punctilious  and  who  was  manifestly  indignant  at  the 
mocking  spirit's  coarseness. 

"It  really  is  a  spirit,"  said  Ida,  looking  very  pale. 

"I'm  going  to  leave  off,"  said  Eva,  nervously,  lifting 
up  her  fingers.  "I  don't  understand  this  nonsense.  It's 
quite  amusing,  but  the  table's  not  accustomed  to  polite 
society." 

"We've  got  a  new  resource  for  Labuwangi!"  said 
Eldersma.  "No  more  picnics,  no  dances  .  .  .  but 
table-turning !" 

"We  must  practise !"  said  Mrs.  Doom  de  Bruijn. 

Eva  shitigged  her  shoulders: 

"It's  inexplicable,"  she  said.  "I'm  bound  to  believe 
that  none  of  us  was  cheating.  It's  not  the  sort  of  thing 
Van  Helderen  would  do,  to  suggest  such  words  as 
those." 

"Madam!"  said  Van  Helderen,  defending  himself. 

**We  must  do  it  again,"  said  Ida.  "Look,  there's  a 
hadji^  leaving  the  grounds." 

She  pointed  to  the  garden. 

"Ahadji?"askedEva. 

She  looked  towards  the  garden.    There  was  nothing. 

"Oh  no,  it's  not!"  said  Ida.  "I  thought  it  was  a 
hadji.     It's  nothing,  only  the  moonlight." 

^A  pilgrim  who  has  made  or  is  making  the  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca. 


84  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

It  was  late.  They  said  good-night,  laughing  gaily, 
wondering,  but  finding  no  explanation. 

*T  do  hope  this  hasn't  made  you  ladies  nervous?" 
said  the  doctor. 

No,  considering  all  things,  they  were  not  nervous. 
They  were  more  amused,  even  though  they  did  not 
understand. 

It  was  two  o'clock  when  they  went  home.  The 
moonlight  was  streaming  down  on  the  town,  which  lay 
deathly  silent,  slumbering  in  the  velvet  shadows  of  the 
gardens. 


CHAPTER  X 

Next  day,  when  Eldersma  had  gone  to  the  office  and 
Eva  was  moving  about  the  house,  in  sarong  and  kahaai, 
on  her  domestic  duties,  she  saw  Frans  van  Helderen 
coming  through  the  garden. 

"May  I?"  he  called  out. 

"Certainly,"  she  called  back.  "Come  in.  But  I'm 
on  my  way  to  the  gudang/'^ 

And  she  held  up  her  key-basket. 

"I'm  due  at  the  resident's  in  half  an  hour,  but  I'm 
too  early     ...     so  I  just  looked  in." 

She  smiled. 

"But  I'm  busy,  you  know!"  she  cried.  "Come  along 
to  the  gudang  with  me." 

He  followed  her:  he  was  wearing  a  black  alpaca 
jacket,  because  he  had  to  go  to  the  resident  presently. 

"How's  Ida?"  asked  Eva.  "Did  she  sleep  well  after 
her  seance  of  last  night  ?" 

"Only  fairly  well,"  said  Franz  van  Helderen.  "I 
don't  think  she  ought  to  do  any  more.  She  kept  waking 
with  a  start,  falling  on  my  neck  and  begging  me  to 
forgive  her,  I  don't  know  what  for." 

"It  didn't  upset  me  at  all,"  said  Eva,  "although  I 
don't  imderstand  it  in  the  least." 

She  opened  the  gudang,  called  the  kokkie  and  gave 
the  woman  her  orders.  The  kokkie  was  latta;^  and  Eva 
loved  teasing  the  old  thing. 

*  Store-room,  go-down. 

'A  nervous  disorder  which  is  manifested  by  sudden  oeriods  of 
intense  sug-g-estibility,  resulting  in  mimicr>'.  Recovery  is  com- 
monly instantaneous. 


86  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"La     .     .     .     la-illa-lala !"  she  cried. 

And  the  kokkie  gave  a  start  and  echoed  the  cry  and 
recovered  herself  the  next  moment,  begging  for  for- 
giveness. 

"Buang,^  kokkie,  buang!"  cried  Eva. 

And  the  kokkie,  acting  on  the  suggestion,  flung  down 
a  tray  of  rambiitcns-  and  mangistans^  and,  at  once  re- 
covering, stooped  and  picked  up  the  scattered  fruits 
from  the  floor,  imploring  to  be  forgiven  and  shaking 
her  head  and  clicking  her  tongue. 

"Come,  we'd  better  go  \"  said  Eva  to  Frans.  "Else 
she'll  be  breaking  my  eggs  presently.  Ajo,  kokkie, 
kluar!'"' 

"Ajo,  kluar!"  echoed  the  latta  cook,  "Alea,  iijonja, 
minta  ampon,  njonja,  alia  stida,  njonja!"^ 

"Come  and  sit  down  for  a  little,"  said  Eva. 

He  went  with  her: 

"You're  so  cheerful,"  he  said. 

"Aren't  you?" 

"No,  I've  been  feeling  sad,  lately." 

"I  too.  I  told  you  so  yesterday.  It's  something  in 
the  LabuwangI  air.  There's  no  telling  what  this  table- 
turning  has  in  store  for  us." 

They  sat  down  in  the  back-verandah.    He  sighed. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked. 

"I  can't  help  it,"  he  said.  "I  care  for  you  so.  I 
love  you." 

She  was  silent  for  an  instant. 

"Again?"  she  then  said,  reproachfully. 

^  "Throw  down !" 

*  Malay  fruits  resembling  litchis. 

'Another  fruit,  also  called  mangosteens. 

*"Out  of  this,  cook,  outside!" 

^  "Oh,  ma'am,  beg  pardon,  ma'am,  oh,  enough,enough,  ma'am !" 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  87 

He  did  not  answer. 

"I  told  you,  mine  is  not  a  passionate  nature.  I  am 
cold.  I  love  my  husband  and  my  child.  Let's  be 
friends,  Van  Helderen." 

"I'm  fighting  against  it ;  but  it's  no  use." 

"I'm  fond  of  Ida;  I  wouldn't  make  her  unhappy  for 
the  world." 

"I  don't  believe  I  was  ever  fond  of  her." 

"Van  Helderen!     .     .     ." 

"If  I  was,  it  was  only  for  her  pretty  face.  But,  white 
though  Ida  may  be,  she's  a  nonna  .  .  .  with  her 
whimsies  and  her  childish  little  tragedies.  I  didn't  see 
it  so  much  at  first,  but  I  see  it  now,  of  course.  I've 
met  women  from  Europe  before  I  met  you.  But  you 
were  a  revelation  to  me,  a  revelation  of  all  the  chann 
and  artistic  grace  that  a  woman  can  possess.  .  .  . 
And  the  exotic  side  In  you  appeals  to  my  own  exotic 
side." 

"I  value  your  friendship  highly.  Let  things  remain 
as  they  are." 

"Sometimes  it's  just  as  though  I  were  mad,  some- 
times T  dream  .  .  .  that  we're  travelling  In  Eu- 
rope together,  that  we're  in  Italy  or  Paris.  Some- 
times I  see  us  sitting  together  over  a  fire,  in  a  room  of 
our  own,  you  talking  of  art,  I  of  the  modern,  social 
developments  of  our  time.  But,  after  that,  I  see  us 
more  intimately.     .     .     ." 

"Van  Helderen!     .     .     ." 

"It's  no  longer  any  use  your  warning  me.  I  love 
you,  Eva,  Eva.     .     .     ." 

"I  don't  believe  there's  another  country  where  there's 
so  much  love  going  about  as  in  India !  I  suppose  It's 
the  heat.     .     .     ." 


88  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"Don't  crush  me  with  your  sarcasm.  No  other 
woman  ever  made  such  an  appeal  to  my  whole  soul 
and  body  as  you  do,  Eva.     .     .     ." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Don't  be  angry,  Van  Helderen,  but  I  can't  stand 
those  commonplaces.  Let  us  be  sensible.  I  have  a 
charming  husband,  you  have  a  dear  little  wife.  We're 
all  good,  pleasant  friends  together." 

"You're  so  cold!" 

"I  don't  want  to  spoil  the  happiness  of  our  friend- 
ship." 

"Friendship!" 

"Friendship  is  what  I  said.  There  is  nothing  I  value 
so  highly,  except  my  domestic  happiness,  I  couldn't 
live  without  friends.  I  am  happy  in  my  husband  and 
my  child ;  next  to  these  I  need  friends,  above  all  things." 

"So  that  they  can  admire  you,  so  that  you  can  rule 
over  them !"  said  he,  angrily. 

She  looked  him  in  the  face : 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  coolly.  "Perhaps  I  have  a  need 
of  admiration  and  of  ruling  over  others.  We  all  have 
our  weaknesses." 

"I  have  mine,"  he  said,  bitterly. 

"Come,"  she  said,  in  a  kinder  tone,  "let  us  remam 
friends." 

"I  am  terribly  unhappy,"  he  said,  in  a  dull  voice.  "I 
feel  as  if  I  had  missed  everything  in  life.  I  have  never 
been  out  of  Java  and  I  feel  there's  something  lacking 
in  me  because  I  have  never  seen  ice  and  snow.  Snow: 
I  think  of  it  as  a  sort  of  mysterious,  unknown  purity, 
which  I  long  for,  but  which  I  never  seem  to  meet. 
When  shall  I  see  Europe  ?  When  shall  I  cease  to  rave 
about  //  Trovatore  and  manage  to  get  to  Bayreuth? 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  89 

When  shall  I  come  within  range  of  you,  Eva?  I'm 
feeling  for  everything  with  my  antennae,  like  a  wing- 
less insect.  .  .  .  What  fi- my  hfe!  .  .  .  With 
Ida,  with  three  children,  whom  I  foresee  growing 
into  the  likeness  of  their  mother !  I  shall  remain  con- 
troller for  years  and  then — possibly — be  promoted  to 
assistant-resident  .  .  .  and  so  remain.  And  then 
at  last  I  shall  receive  my  dismissal — or  ask  for  it — 
and  go  to  Sukatumi  to  live,  to  vegetate  on  a  small  pen- 
sion, I  feel  everything  in  me  longing  for  idleness. 
•     •     • 

"You  like  your  work,  for  all  that;  you're  a  first-rate 
official.  Eldersma  always  says  that  in  India  a  man 
who  doesn't  work  and  who  doesn't  love  his  work  is 
lost." 

"Your  nature  is  not  made  for  love  and  mine  is  not 
made  for  work:  not  for  that  and  nothing  else.  I  can 
work  for  an  aim  that  I  see  before  me,  a  beautiful  aim; 
but  I  can't  work  .  .  ,  just  for  work's  sake  and 
to  fill  the  emptiness  in  my  life." 

"Your  aim  is  India.     .     .     ." 

"A  fine  phrase,"  he  said.  "It  may  be  so  for  a  man 
like  the  resident,  who  has  succeeded  in  his  career  and 
who  never  has  to  sit  studying  the  Colonial  List  and  cal- 
culating on  the  illness  of  the  this  man  or  the  death  of 
that  ...  so  that  he  may  get  promoted.  It's  all 
right  for  a  man  like  Van  Oudijck,  who,  in  his  genuine, 
idealistic  honest)'',  thinks  that  his  aim  is  India,  not  be- 
cause of  Holland,  but  because  of  India  herself,  because 
of  the  native  whom  he,  the  official,  protects  against  the 
tyranny  of  the  landlords  and  planters.  I  am  more 
cynical  by  nature.     ,     .     ." 


90  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

*'But  don't  be  so  lukewarm  about  India.  It's  not 
merely  a  fine  phrase:  I  feel  like  that  myself.  India  is 
our  whole  greatness,  the  greatness  of  us  Hollanders. 
Listen  to  foreigners  speaking  of  India:  they  are  all 
enchanted  with  her  glory,  with  our  methods  of  coloni- 
zation. .  .  .  Don't  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
wretched  Dutch  spirit  of  our  people  at  home,  who  know 
nothing  about  India,  who  always  have  a  sneering  word 
for  India,  who  are  so  petty  and  stiff  and  bourgeois  and 
narrow-minded.     .     .     ." 

"I  didn't  know  that  you  were  so  enthusiastic  about 
India.  Only  yesterday  you  were  feeling  anguished  here 
and  I  was  standing  up  for  my  country.     .     .     ." 

"Oh,  it  gives  me  a  sort  of  shudder,  the  mystery  in  the 
evenings,  where  seems  to  threaten  I  don't  know  what. 
I'm  afraid  of  the  future,  some  danger  ahead  of  us !  , 
I  feel  that  I,  personally,  am  still  very  remote 
from  India,  though  I  don't  want  to  be;  that  I  miss  the 
art  amid  w^hich  I  was  educated ;  that  I  miss  here,  in  our 
human  life,  the  plastic  beauty  which  both  my  parents 
always  pointed  out  to  me.  .  .  .  But  I  am  not  un- 
just. And  I  think  that  India,  as  our  colony,  is  great ; 
I  think  that  we,  in  our  colony,  are  great.      .      .      . " 

"Formerly,  perhaps.  Nowadays,  everything  is  going 
v\^rong ;  nowadays,  we  are  no  longer  great.  You  have 
an  artistic  nature ;  you  are  always  looking  for  artistic 
perfection  in  India,  though  you  seldom  find  it.  And 
then  your  mind  is  confronted  with  that  greatness,  that 
glory.  That's  the  poetry  of  it.  The  prose  of  it  is  a 
gigantic  but  exhausted  colony,  still  governed  from  Hol- 
land with  one  idea;  the  pursuit  of  gain.  The  reality  is 
not  an  India  under  a  great  ruler,  but  an  India  under  a 
petty,  mean-souled  blood-sucker;  the  country  sucked 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  91 

dr}' ;  and  tlie  real  population — not  the  Hollander,  who 
spends  his  Indian  money  at  the  Hague,  but  tlie  popula- 
tion, the  native  population,  attached  to  the  native  soil — 
oppressed  by  tlie  disdain  of  its  overlord,  who  once  im- 
proved it  with  his  own  blood,  and  now  threatening  to 
revolt  against  this  oppression  and  disdain. 
You,  as  an  artist,  feel  the  danger  approaching,  vaguely, 
like  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  in  the  Indian  night;  I  see  the 
danger  as  something  very  real,  something  rising — be- 
fore Holland — if  not  from  America  and  Japan,  then 
out  of  the  soil  of  India  herself,      .      .      ." 

She  smiled: 

"I  like  you  when  you  talk  like  tliat,"  she  said.  "I 
should  end  by  falling  in  with  your  views." 

"If  I  could  achieve  that  by  talking!"  he  laughed,  bit- 
terly, getting  up.  "My  half  hour  is  over:  the  resident 
is  expecting  me  and  he  doesn't  like  waiting  a  minute. 
Goodbye     .     .     .     and  forgive  me." 

"Tell  me,"  she  said,  "am  I  a  flirt?" 

"No,"  he  replied,  "You  are  what  you  are.  And  I 
can't  help  it:  I  love  you.  .  .  .  I'm  always  stretch- 
ing out  my  poor  antennae.   That  is  my  fate,     .     .     . " 

"I  shall  help  you  to  forget  me,"  said  she,  with  af- 
fectionate conviction. 

He  gave  a  little  laugh,  bowed  and  went  away.  She 
saw  him  cross  the  road  to  the  grounds  of  the  resident's 
house,  where  an  oppasscr  met  him. 

"Really  life,  when  all  is  said,  is  one  long  self-de- 
ception, a  wandering  amid  illusions,"  she  thought,  sadly, 
drearily.  "A  great  aim,  an  universal  aim.  .  .  or 
even  a  modest  aim  for  one's  self,  for  one's  o\vn  body 
and  soul :  O  God,  how  little  it  all  Is !  And  how  we  roam 
about,  knowing  nothing !    And  each  of  us  seeks  his  own 


92  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

little  aim,  his  illusion.  The  only  happy  people  are  sim- 
ply exceptions  like  Leonie  van  Oudijck,  who  lives  no 
more  than  a  beautiful  flower  does,  or  a  beautiful  ani- 
mal." 

Her  child  came  toddling  up  to  her,  a  pretty,  fair- 
haired,  plump  little  boy. 

"Sonny,"  she  thought,  "how  will  it  be  with  you? 
What  will  be  your  portion  ?  Oh,  perhaps  nothing  new ! 
Perhaps  a  repetition  of  what  has  so  often  been  before. 
Life  is  a  story  which  is  always  being  repeated.  .  .  . 
Oh,  when  we  feel  like  this,  how  oppressive  India  can  be ! 
•      •      • 

She  kissed  her  boy ;  her  tears  trickled  over  his  fair 
curls. 

"Van  Oudijck  has  his  residency;  I  my  little  circle  of 
.  .  .  admirers  and  subjects ;  Frans  his  love  .  .  . 
for  me:  we  all  have  our  playthings,  just  like  my  little 
Onno  playing  with  his  little  horse.  How  small  we  are, 
how  small!  ...  All  our  lives,  we  make  believe, 
pretending,  imagining  all  sorts  of  things,  thinking  that 
we  are  giving  a  path  or  a  direction  to  our  poor,  aimless 
little  lives.  Oh,  why  am  I  like  this  sonny?  Sonny, 
sonny,  how  will  it  be  with  you  ?" 


CHAPTER  XI 

The  Patjaram  sugar-factory  was  fourteen  miles  from 
Labuwangi  and  twelve  from  Ngadjiwa  and  belonged  to 
the  half-Indo/  half-Solo  family  of  De  Luce,  a  family 
who  had  once  been  millionaires,"  but  were  no  longer  so 
very  well  off,  owing  to  the  recent  sugar-crisis,  though 
they  still  supported  a  numerous  household.  This  fami- 
ly, which  always  kept  together — the  old  mother  and 
grandmother,  a  Solo  princess ;  the  eldest  son,  the  mana- 
ger ;  three  married  daughters  and  their  husbands,  clerks 
in  the  factory,  all  living  in  its  shadow;  three  younger 
sons  employed  in  the  factory ;  the  many  grandchildren, 
playing  round  and  about  the  factory ;  the  great-grand- 
children springing  up  round  and  about  the  factory — this 
family  maintained  the  old  Indian  traditions  which,  at 
one  time  universal,  are  now  becoming  rarer  thanks  to 
the  more  frequent  intercourse  with  Europeans,  The 
mother-grandmother  was  the  daughter  of  a  Solo  prince, 
and  had  married  a  young  and  enterprising  bohemlan 
adventurer,  Ferdinand  de  Luce,  a  member  of  a  French 
titled  family  in  Mauritius,  who,  after  wandering  about 
for  many  years  in  search  of  his  place  in  the  sun,  had 
sailed  to  India  as  a  ship's  steward  and,  after  all  sorts  of 
vicissitudes,  had  found  himself  stranded  in  Solo,  where 
he  had  achieved  fame  through  a  dish  prepared  with  to- 
matoes and  another  consisting  of  stuffed  lomboks.^ 
Thanks  to  these  recipes,  Ferdinand  de  Luce  won  the 

*  Eurasian,  including  sinj'o  and  nonna. 

*  In  guilders  (twelve  guilders  are  roughly  equal  to  a  sovereign). 

*  Chillies. 


94  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

favour  of  the  Solo  princess  whose  hand  he  afterward 
obtained  and  even  that  of  the  old  Susuhunan/  After 
his  marriage,  he  became  a  landowner  and,  according  to 
the  Solo  adat/  a  vassal  of  the  Susuhunan,  whom  he 
supplied  daily  with  rice  and  fruits  for  the  household  of 
the  dalem*  Then  he  had  launched  out  into  sugar, 
divining  the  millions  which  a  lucky  fate  held  in  store 
for  him.  He  had  died  before  the  crisis,  laden  with 
wealth  and  honours. 

The  old  grandmother,  in  whom  there  was  not  a  trace 
left  of  the  young  princess  whom  Ferdinand  de  Luce  had 
wedded  to  promote  his  fortunes,  was  never  approached 
by  the  servants  and  the  Javanese  staff  save  with  a  cring- 
ing reverence;  and  everybody  gave  her  the  title  of 
Raden-Aju  Pangeran.     She  did  not  speak  a  word  of 
Dutch.      Wrinkled  like   a   shrivelled    fruit,   with  her 
clouded  eyes  and  her  withered,  betel-stained  mouth, 
she  was  peacefully  living  her  last  years,  always  dressed 
in  a  dark  silk  kabaai,  the  neck  and  the  light  sleeves  of 
which  were  fastened  with  precious  stones.    Before  her 
sun-bitten  gaze  there  hovered  the  vision  of  her  former 
dalcm  grandeur,  which  she  had  abandoned  for  love  of 
that  French  nobleman-cook  who  had  pandered  to  her 
father's  taste  with  his  dainty  recipes ;  in  her  ears  buzzed 
the  constant  murmur  of  the  centrifugal  separators,  like 
the  screws  of  steamers,  throughout  the  milling-season, 
lasting  for  months  on  end ;  around  her  were  her  chil- 
dren, grandchildren  and  great-grandchildren:   the  sons 
and  daughters  addressed  as  Raden  and  Raden-Adjeng 
by  the  servants;  all  of  them  still  surrounded  by  the  pale 

*  Emperor  or  sultan. 
'  Custom,  usage. 
« Palace. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  95 

halo  of  tlieir  Solo  descent.  The  eldest  daughter  was 
married  to  a  full-blooded,  fair-haired  Dutchman;  the 
son  who  followed  her  to  an  Armenian  girl;  the  two 
others  were  married  to  Indos,  both  brown,  and  their 
bro^vn  children — who  were  also  married  and  also  had 
children — mingled  with  the  fair-haired  family  of  the 
eldest  daughter ;  and  the  pride  of  the  whole  family  was 
the  youngest  son  and  brother,  Adrian,  or  Addie,  who 
made  love  to  Doddie  van  Oudijck  and  who  was  con- 
stantly at  Labuwangi,  the  busy  milling  season  notwith- 
standing. 

In  this  family,  traditions  were  still  maintained,  now 
quite  obsolete,  such  as  people  remembered  in  the  Indian 
families  of  long  ago.  Here  you  still  saw,  in  the 
grounds,  in  the  back  verandah,  the  numberless  babiis,^ 
one  rubbing  bcdak  into  a  fine  powder,  another  preparing 
dupa,'  another  pounding  sambal,^  all  with  dreamy  eyes, 
all  with  slender,  nimbly-moving  fingers.  Here  the  habit 
still  prevailed  of  an  endless  array  of  dishes  at  the  rijst- 
tafcl,  with  a  long  row  of  servants,  one  after  the  other, 
solemnly  handing  round  one  more  vegetable,  one  more 
lodch,*  one  more  dish  of  chicken,  while,  squatting  be- 
hind the  ladies,  the  babiis  pounded  sambal  in  an  earth- 
enware mortar,  according  to  the  several  tastes  and  re- 
quirements of  the  sated  palates.  Here  it  was  still  the 
custom,  when  the  family  attended  the  races  at  Ngad- 
jiwa,  for  each  of  the  ladies  to  appear  followed  by  a 
babu,  moving  slowly,  lithely,  solemnly ;  one  babii  carry- 
ing a  bedak-pot,  another  a  bonbonnicre  filled  with  pep- 

*  Maid-servants. 
'  Incense. 

*  Diverse  condiments  served  with  the  rijsttafel. 

*  Sauces  for  vegetables. 


96  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

permints,  or  a  pair  of  race-glasses,  or  a  fan,  or  a  scent- 
bottle;  the  whole  resembling  a  ceremonial  procession 
bearing  the  insignia  of  state.  Here,  too,  you  still 
found  the  old-fashioned  hospitality;  the  row  of 
spare-rooms  open  to  any  one  who  cared  to  knock: 
here  all  could  stay  as  long  as  they  pleased:  no  one 
was  asked  the  object  of  his  journey  or  the  date  of 
departure.  A  great  simplicity  of  mind,  an  all-embrac- 
ing, spontaneous,  innate  cordiality  provided  together 
with  an  unbounded  weariness  and  tedium,  a  life  of  no 
ideas  and  but  few  words,  the  ready,  gentle  smile  making 
good  the  lack  of  both;  material  life  full  and  sated:  a 
life  of  cool  drinks  and  kzvee-kwees'^  and  rujak  handed 
round  all  day,  three  hahiis  being  specially  appointed  to 
make  rujak  and  kzuee-kzuces.  Any  number  of  animals 
were  scattered  over  the  estate:  there  was  a  cage  full  of 
monkeys ;  a  few  lories ;  dogs,  cats,  some  tame  squirrels 
and  a  kantjil,'  an  exquisite  little  deer  which  ran  about 
loose.  The  house,  built  on  to  the  factory,  groaning  dur- 
ing the  milling-season  with  the  murmur  of  the 
machinery — the  noise  like  the  screw  of  a  steamer — 
was  spacious  and  furnished  with  the  old,  old-fashioned 
furniture :  the  low  wooden  bedsteads  with  four  carved 
bedposts  hung  with  curtains ;  the  heavy-legged  tables ; 
the  rocking  chairs  with  peculiarly  round  backs:  all 
things  which  are  now  no  longer  obtainable ;  everything 
without  the  slightest  touch  of  modernity,  except — and 
only  during  the  milling-season — the  electric  light  in  the 
front-verandah !  The  occupants  were  always  in  indoor 
dress:  the  men  In  white  or  blue-and-white  striped  pyja- 
mas; the  ladies  in  sarong  and  kabaai,  toying  with  a 

^  Native  cakes,  pastry. 

'  A  dwarf  deer,  the  size  of  an  average  dog. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  97 

monkey  or  lory  or  kantjil,  in  simplicity  of  mind,  with 
ever  the  same  pleasant  jest,  drawling  and  drowsy,  and 
the  same  gentle  little  laugh.  The  passions,  which  were 
certainly  there,  slumbered,  in  that  gentle  smile.  Then, 
when  the  milling-season  was  over,  when  all  the  bustle 
was  over,  when  the  files  of  sugar-carts,  drawn  by  the 
superb  sappis,^  with  glossy  brown  hides,  had  brought 
an  ever-increasing  store  of  canes  over  the  ampas~-cov- 
ered  road,  which  was  cut  to  pieces  by  the  broad  cart- 
ruts,  when  the  bibif  had  been  bought  for  next  year 
and  the  machines  were  stopped :  then  came  the  sudden 
relaxation  after  the  incessant  labour,  the  long,  long 
holiday,  the  many  months'  rest,  the  craving  for  fes- 
tivity and  enjoym.ent ;  the  big  dinner  given  by  the  lady 
of  the  house,  followed  by  a  ball  and  tahleaux-vivants ; 
the  whole  house  full  of  visitors,  who  stayed  on  and  on, 
known  and  unknown ;  the  old,  wrinkled  grandmamma, 
the  lady  of  the  house,  the  Raden-Aju,  Mrs.  de  Luce, 
whatever  you  liked  to  call  her,  amiable  with  her  dull 
eyes  and  her  siriJp-vcxoviih,  amiable  to  one  and  all,  with 
always  an  anak-mas,  a  "golden  child,"  a  poor  little 
adopted  princess,  at  her  heels,  carrying  a  gold  betel- 
box  behind  the  great  princess  from  Solo :  a  slender  lit- 
tle woman  of  eight  years  old,  her  front  hair  cut  into  a 
fringe,  her  forehead  whitened  with  moist  bedak,  her 
already  rounded  little  breasts  confined  in  the  little  pink 
silk  kabaai,  with  the  miniature  gold  sarong  round  the 
slender  hips;  a  doll,  a  toy  for  the  Raden-Aju,  for  Mrs. 
de  Luce  for  the  Dowager  de  Luce.  And  for  the  com- 
pounds there  were  the  popular  rejoicings,  a  time- 

'  Oxen. 
'  Cane-fibre 
•  Seed. 


98  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

honoured  lavishness,  in  which  all  Patjaram  shared,  ac- 
cording to  the  secular  tradition  which  was  always  ob- 
served, despite  any  crisis  or  unrest. 

The  milling-season  and  the  rejoicings  were  now  over. 
There  was  comparative  peace  indoors ;  and  a  languor- 
ous Indian  calm  had  set  in.  But  Mrs.  van  Oudijck, 
Theo  and  Doddie  had  come  over  for  the  festivities  and 
were  staying  on  a  few  days  longer  at  Patjaram.  A 
great  circle  of  people  sat  round  the  marble  table 
covered  with  glasses  of  syrup,  lemonade  and  whisky- 
and-soda;  they  did  not  speak  much,  but  rocked  lux- 
uriously, exchanging  an  occasional  word.  Mrs.  de 
Luce  and  Mrs.  van  Oudijck  spoke  Malay,  but  did  not 
say  much.  A  gentle,  good-humoured  boredom  drifted 
down  on  all  those  rocking  people.  It  was  strange  to 
see  the  different  types:  the  pretty,  milk-white  Leonie 
beside  the  yellow,  wrinkled  Raden-Aju  Dowager; 
Theo,  pale  and  fair  as  a  Dutchman,  with  his  full, 
sensual  lips,  which  he  inherited  from  his  nonna 
mother ;  Doddie,  already  looking  like  a  ripe  rose,  with 
the  sparkling  irises  and  black  pupils  in  her  black  eyes ; 
the  manager's  son,  Achille  de  Luce,  brown,  tall  and 
stout,  whose  thoughts  ran  only  on  his  machinery  and 
his  bibit;  the  second  son,  Roger,  brown,  short  and 
thin,  the  book-keeper  whose  thoughts  ran  only  on  the 
year's  profits,  with  his  little  Armenian  wife;  the  eldest 
daughter,  old  already,  brown,  stupidly  ugly,  with  her 
full-blooded  Dutch  husband,  who  looked  like  a  peasant ; 
the  other  sons  and  daughters,  in  every  shade  of  brown 
and  not  easily  distinguished  one  from  the  other; 
around  them  the  children,  the  grandchildren,  the  little, 
golden-skinned  adopted  children,  the  bahns,  the  lories 
and  the  kantjil;  and  over  all  these  people  and  children 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  99 

and  animals,  as  though  shaken  down  upon  them,  lay 
a  good-hearted  soHdarity;  and  over  all  these  people 
there  also  lay  a  common  pride  in  their  Solo  ancestors, 
crowning  all  their  heads  with  a  pale  halo  of  Javanese 
aristocracy;  and  the  Armenian  daughter-in-law  and 
the  bucolic  Dutch  son-in-law  were  not  least  proud  of 
this  descent. 

The  liveliest  of  all  these  elements,  which  were  melt- 
ing into  one  another,  as  it  were,  through  long  com- 
munal life  under  the  patriarchal  roofs,  was  the  young- 
est son,  Adrien  de  Luce,  Addie,  In  whom  the  blood 
of  the  Solo  princess  and  that  of  the  French  adventurer 
had  blended  harmoniously.  The  admixture,  it  is  true, 
had  given  him  no  brains,  but  it  had  given  him  the 
physical  beauty  of  a  young  sinjo,  with  something  of 
the  Moor  about  it,  something  southern  and  seductive, 
something  Spanish,  as  though  in  this  last  child  the  two 
alien  racial  elements  had  for  the  first  time  mingled 
harmoniously,  for  the  first  time  been  wedded  in  abso- 
lute mutual  knowledge ;  as  though  in  him,  this  last  child 
after  so  many  children,  adventurer  and  princess  had 
for  the  first  time  met  in  harmony,  Addie  seemed 
to  possess  not  a  jot  of  intellect  or  imagination ;  he  was 
unable  to  unite  two  ideas  into  one  composite  thought ; 
he  merely  felt,  with  the  vague  good-nature  which  had 
descended  upon  the  whole  family.  For  the  rest,  he 
was  like  a  beautiful  animal,  degenerate  in  soul  and 
brain,  but  degenerate  to  nothing,  to  one  great  nothing, 
to  one  great  emptiness,  while  his  body  had  become  like 
a  renewal  of  race,  full  of  strength  and  beauty,  while 
his  marrow  and  his  blood  and  his  flesh  and  his  muscles 
had  become  one  harmony  of  physical  seductiveness,  so 
purely,  stupidly,  beautifully  sensual  that  its  harmony 


100  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

had  for  a  woman  an  immediate  appeal.  The  boy  had 
but  to  appear,  hke  a  beautiful,  southern  god,  for  all  the 
women  to  look  at  him  and  take  him  into  the  depths  of 
their  imagination,  to  recall  him  to  their  minds  again 
and  again ;  the  boy  had  but  to  go  to  a  race-ball  at  Ngad- 
jiwa,  for  all  the  girls  to  fall  in  love  with  him.  He 
plucked  love  where  he  found  It,  in  plenty,  in  the  Pat- 
jaram  compounds.  And  everything  feminine  was  in 
love  with  him,  from  his  mother  to  his  little  nieces. 
Doddie  van  Oudijck  was  infatuated  with  him.  From 
a  child  of  seven  she  had  been  in  love,  a  hundred  times 
and  more,  with  every  one  who  passed  before  the  glance 
of  her  flashing  pupils,  but  never  yet  as  with  Addie. 
Her  love  shone  so  strongly  from  her  whole  being  that 
it  was  like  a  flame,  that  everybody  saw  it  and  smiled. 
The  milling-feast  had  been  to  her  one  long  delight 
.  .  .  when  she  danced  with  him ;  one  long  martyr- 
dom .  .  .  when  he  danced  with  others.  He  had 
not  asked  her  to  marry  him,  but  she  thought  of  asking 
him  and  was  prepared  to  die  if  he  refused.  She  knew 
that  the  resident,  her  father,  would  object:  he  did  not 
like  those  De  Luces,  that  Solo-French  crew,  as  he  called 
them;  but,  if  Addie  was  willing,  her  father  would  con- 
sent, rather  than  see  her  die.  To  this  child  of  love  that 
lovable  boy  was  the  world,  the  universe,  life  itself.  He 
made  love  to  her,  he  kissed  her  on  the  lips,  but  this  was 
no  more  than  he  did  to  others,  unthinkingly:  he  kissed 
other  girls  as  well.  And,  if  he  could,  he  went  further, 
like  a  devastating  young  god,  an  unthinking  god.  But 
he  still  stood  more  or  less  in  awe  of  the  resident's 
daughter.  He  possessed  neither  pluck  nor  effrontery, 
his  passions  were  not  markedly  selective,  he  looked  on 
a  woman  as  a  woman  and  was  so  much  sated  with  con- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  101 

quest  that  obstacles  did  not  stimulate  him.  His  garden 
was  full  of  flowers  which  all  lifted  themselves  up  to 
him;  he  stretched  out  his  hand,  almost  without  looking ; 
he  merely  plucked. 

As  they  sat  rocking  about  the  table,  they  saw  him 
come  through  the  garden ;  and  the  eyes  of  all  these 
women  turned  to  him  as  to  a  young  tempter,  arriving 
in  the  sunshine,  which  touched  him  as  with  a  halo. 
The  Raden-Aju  Dowager  smiled  and  gazed  at  him, 
enamoured  of  her  son,  her  favorite ;  squatting  on  the 
ground  behind  her,  the  little  golden  adopted  child 
stared  with  wdde-open  eyes ;  the  sisters  looked  out,  the 
little  nieces  looked  out  and  Doddie  turned  pale  and 
Leonie  van  Oudijck's  milky  whiteness  became  tinged 
with  a  rosy  shade  which  mingled  with  the  glamour  of 
her  smile.  She  glanced  at  Theo  mechanically;  their 
eyes  met.  And  these  souls  of  sheer  love,  love  of  the 
eyes,  of  the  lips,  love  of  the  glowing  flesh,  understood 
each  other;  and  Theo's  jealousy  of  Leonie  burnt  so 
fiercely  that  the  rosy  shade  died  away  and  she  became 
pale  and  fearful,  with  a  sudden,  unreasoning  fear 
which  shuddered  through  her  usual  indifference,  while 
the  tempter,  in  his  halo  of  sunshine,  came  nearer  and 
nearer.     .     .     . 


CHAPTER  XII 

Mrs.  van  Oudijck  had  promised  to  stay  at  Patjaram 
a  few  days  longer;  and  she  disHked  the  prospect  really, 
not  feeling  quite  at  home  in  these  old-fashioned  Indian 
surroundings.    But  when  Addie  appeared  she  thought 
better  of  it.     In  the  deepest  secrecy  of  her  heart  this 
woman  worshipped  her  sensuality  as  in  the  temple  of 
her  egoism;  here  the  milk-white  Creole  offered  up  all 
the  most  intimate  dreams  of  her  rosy  imagination  and 
unquenchable  longing ;  and  in  this  cult  she  had  achieved 
as  it  were  an  art,  a  knowledge,  a  science,  that  of  de- 
ciding, for  herself,  at  a  glance,  what  it  was  that  at- 
tracted her  in  the  man  who  approached  her,  in  the  man 
who  passed  by  her.     In  one  it  was  his  bearing,  his 
voice;  in  another  it  was  the  set  of  his  neck  on  his 
shoulders ;  in  a  third  It  was  the  way  his  hand  rested  on 
his  knee ;  but,  whatever  it  was,  she  saw  It  directly,  at  a 
glance ;  she  knew  it  Immediately,  in  an  instant ;  she  had 
judged  the  passer-by  In  an  indivisible  second ;  and  she 
at  once  knew  whom  she  rejected — and  they  were  the 
majority — and  whom  she  approved — and  they  were 
many — alike.     And  those  whom  she  rejected  in  that 
indivisible  moment  of  her  supreme  judgement,  with 
that  single  glance,  In  that  single  Instant,  need  cherish  no 
hope:    she,  the  priestess,  did  not  admit  them  to  the 
temple.    To  the  others,  the  temple  was  open,  but  only 
behind   the   curtain   of   her   correctitude.      However 
shameless,  she  was  always  correct,  her  love  was  always 
secret ;  to  the  world,  she  was  nothing  but  the  charming, 
smiling  wife  of  the  resident,  a  little  Indolent  In  her 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  103 

ways,  but  winning  everybody  with  her  smile.  When 
people  did  not  see  her,  they  spoke  ill  of  her ;  when  they 
saw  her,  she  conquered  them  at  once.  Among  all  of 
those  with  whom  she  shared  the  secret  of  her  love  there 
reigned  a  certain  freemasonry-,  a  mystery  of  worship ; 
scarcely,  when  two  of  them  met,  would  they  whisper  a 
word  or  two,  at  a  similar  recollection.  And  Leonie 
could  sit  smiling,  milk-white,  tranquil  in  the  great  circle 
around  a  marble  table,  with  at  least  two  or  three  men 
who  knew  the  secret.  It  did  not  disturb  her  tranquillity 
nor  mar  her  smile.  She  smiled  to  the  pitch  of  boredom. 
Scarcely  would  her  glance  glide  from  one  to  the  other, 
while  she  judged  them  once  again,  with  her  infallible 
knack  of  judgement.  Scarcely  would  the  memories  of 
past  hours  rise  hazily  within  her,  scarcely  would  she 
think  of  the  assignation  for  the  following  day.  The 
secret  lay  wholly  in  the  mystery  of  the  meeting  and 
indeed  was  never  uttered  before  the  profane  world.  If 
a  foot  in  the  circle  sought  to  touch  her  foot,  she  drew 
hers  away.  She  never  flirted,  she  was  even  sometimes 
a  little  tedious,  stiff,  correct,  smiling.  In  the  free- 
masonry between  herself  and  the  initiated,  she  unveiled 
the  mystery ;  but  before  the  world,  in  the  circles  about 
the  marble  tables,  she  vouchsafed  not  a  glance,  not  a 
pressure  of  the  hand  or  knee. 

She  had  been  bored  during  these  days  at  Patjaram, 
for  which  she  had  accepted  the  invitation  to  the  milling- 
feast  because  she  had  refused  it  in  past  years;  but  now 
that  she  saw  Addie  approaching  she  was  bored  no 
longer.  Of  course  she  had  known  him  for  years ;  and 
she  had  seen  him  grow  from  a  child  into  a  boy,  into  a 
man ;  and  she  had  even  kissed  him  as  a  boy.  She  had 
long  ago  judged  him,  the  tempter.     But  now,  as  he 


104  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

came  forward  with  his  halo  of  sunshine,  she  judged 
him  once  more ;  his  comely,  slender  sensuality  and  the 
glow  of  his  tempter's  eyes  in  the  shadowy  brown  of 
his  young  Moorish  face ;  the  curving  lines  of  his  lips 
formed  for  kissing,  with  the  young  down  of  his  mous- 
tache ;  the  tigerish  strength  and  litheness  of  which  Don 
Juan  might  have  owned:  it  all  dazzled  her,  made  her 
blink  her  eyes.  While  he  greeted  his  mother's  visitors 
and  sat  down,  a  volley  of  wordy  merriment  ran  round 
that  circle  of  languid  conversation  and  drowsy  thoughts 
— as  though  he  were  casting  a  handful  of  his  sunshine, 
of  the  gold-dust  of  his  temptation  over  them  all,  over 
all  those  women,  mother  and  sisters  and  nieces  and 
Doddie  and  Leonie — Leonie  looked  at  him,  as  they  all 
looked  at  him,  and  her.  eyes  slipped  down  to  his  hands; 
She  could  have  kissed  those  hands  of  his,  she  suddenly 
became  smitten  with  the  shape  of  the  fingers,  with  the 
brown,  tigerish  strength  of  the  hands  themselves:  she 
suddenly  became  smitten  with  all  the  wild  young  animal 
vigour  which  breathed  like  a  fragrance  of  manhood 
from  the  whole  of  his  boyish  frame.  She  felt  her 
blood  throbbing,  almost  uncontrollably,  despite  her 
great  art  of  remaining  cool  and  correct  in  the  circles 
around  the  marble  tables.  She  was  no  longer  bored. 
She  had  an  object  to  fill  the  days  that  were  coming. 
Only  .  .  .  her  blood  throbbed  so  violently  that 
Theo  had  noticed  her  blush  and  the  quivering  of  her 
eyelids.  Enamoured  of  her  as  he  was,  his  eyes  had 
penetrated  her  soul.  And,  when  they  rose  to  go  to 
lunch  In  the  back-verandah,  where  the  hahiis  had  al- 
ready squatted  to  crush  everybody's  different  iilek^ 

*  Sambal  made  of  Spanish  pepper. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  105 

with  pestles  and  mortars,  he  whispered  two  words  be- 
tween his  teeth: 

"Take  care!" 

She  started;  she  felt  that  he  was  threatening  her. 
This  had  never  happened  before:  all  who  had  shared 
in  the  mystery  had  always  respected  her.  She  started 
so  violently,  she  was  so  indignant  at  this  wrenching 
away  of  the  temple-curtain — in  a  verandah  full  of 
people — that  her  tranquil  indifference  seethed  with 
anger  and  she  was  roused  to  rebellion  in  her  ever-serene 
self-mastery.  But  she  looked  at  him  and  she  saw  him 
broad  and  tall  and  fair,  a  young  edition  of  her  husband, 
his  Indian  blood  showing  only  in  his  sensual  mouth ; 
and  she  did  not  want  to  lose  him ;  she  wanted  to  keep 
his  type  beside  the  type  of  the  Moorish  tempter.  She 
wanted  them  both;  she  w^anted  to  taste  the  different 
charm  of  their  respective  types,  that  white-skinned 
Dutch  type,  so  very  slightly  Indian,  and  Addie's  wild, 
animal  type.  Her  soul  quivered,  her  blood  thrilled, 
while  the  long  array  of  dishes  was  solemnly  handed 
round.  She  was  in  such  a  revolt  as  she  had  never 
experienced  before.  The  awakening  from  her  placid 
indifference  was  like  a  rebirth,  like  an  unknown  emo- 
tion. She  was  surprised  to  remember  that  she  was 
thirty  and  to  feel  this  for  the  first  time.  A  feverish 
depravity  blossomed  up  within  her,  as  though  bursting 
into  Intoxicating  red  flowers.  She  looked  at  Doddle, 
sitting  beside  Addle:  the  poor  child,  glowing  with  love, 
was  hardly  able  to  eat.  .  .  .  Oh,  the  tempter,  who 
had  only  to  appear!  .  .  .  And  Leonle,  in  that 
fever  of  depravity,  rejoiced  at  being  the  rival  of  a  step- 
daughter so  many  years  younger  than  herself.  She 
w^ould  look  after  her,   she   would  even  warn   Van 


106  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

Oudijck.  Would  it  ever  come  to  a  match  ?  What  did 
she  care :  what  harm  could  marriage  do  to  her,  Leonie  ? 
Oh,  the  tempter !  Never  had  she  dreamt  of  him  thus, 
the  supreme  lover,  in  her  rosy  hours  of  siesta!  This 
was  no  charm  of  little  cherubs ;  this  was  the  stark  radi- 
ance of  tigerish  enchantment :  the  golden  glitter  of  his 
eyes,  the  sinewy  litheness  of  his  stealthy  claw.  .  .  . 
And  she  smiled  to  Theo,  with  just  one  glance  of  self- 
surrender,  a  very  exceptional  thing  at  the  kmcheon- 
table.  As  a  rule,  she  never  surrendered  herself,  in 
public.  Now  she  surrendered  herself,  for  a  moment, 
pleased  by  his  jealousy.  She  was  madly  fond  of  him 
too.  She  thought  it  delightful,  that  he  should  look 
pale  and  angry  with  jealousy.  And  round  about  her 
the  afternoon  was  one  blaze  of  sunlight  and  the  sambal 
stung  her  dry  palate.  Faint  beads  of  perspiration 
stood  on  her  forehead  and  trickled  down  her  bosom 
under  the  lace  of  her  kabaai.  And  she  would  have 
liked  to  clasp  them  both,  Theo  and  Addie,  in  one 
embrace  .  .  .  pressing  them  both  to  her  amorous 
body.     .     , 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  night  was  like  a  veil  of  softest  velvet  dropping 
slowly  from  the  heavens.  The  moon,  in  its  first  quar- 
ter, displayed  a  ver}'^  narrow,  horizontal  sickle,  like  a 
Turkish  crescent,  between  whose  points  the  unlit  por- 
tion of  the  disk  was  faintly  washed  in  against  the  sky. 
A  long  avenue  of  tjemara-trees  stretched  in  front  of 
the  house,  their  trunks  straight,  their  leafage  like  drawn 
plush  or  ravelled  velvet,  showing  like  blots  of  cotton- 
wool against  the  clouds,  which,  drifting  low,  announced 
the  approaching  rainy  monsoon  fully  a  month  before- 
hand. Wood-pigeons  cooed  at  inter\^als  and  a  tokkd 
was  calling,  first  with  two  rattling,  preliminar}^  notes, 
as  though  tuning  up,  then  with  his  call  of  "Tokke! 
Tokke!"  four  or  five  times  repeated ;  first  loudly,  then 
submissively  and  more  faintly. 

A  gardoe^  in  his  hut  in  front  of  the  house  on  the 
high-road,  where  the  sleeping  passer  now  showed  its 
empty  stalls,  struck  eleven  wooden  blows  on  his  tong- 
tong,^  and,  when  a  last,  belated  cart  drove  past,  he 
cried,  in  a  hoarse  voice: 

"Werr-dar* 

The  night  was  like  softest  velvet  dropping  slowly 
from  the  heavens,  like  a  whirling  mystery,  like  an  op- 
pressive menace  of  the  future.  But,  in  that  mystery, 
under  the  frayed  black  dots,  the  ravelled  plush  of  the 

*  Night-watchman, 
'  Market. 

*  Hollow  block  of  wood. 

*  "Who  goes  there?" 


108  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

tjemaras,  there  was  an  inexorable  incitement  to  live,  in 
the  windless  night,  like  a  whisper  that  this  hour  should 
not  be  wasted.  True,  the  tokke  was  gibing  like  a  mock- 
ing imp,  with  a  certain  dry  humour;  and  the  gardoe, 
with  his  "Werda!"  startled  the  hearer ;  but  the  wood- 
pigeons  cooed  softly  and  the  whole  night  was  like  a 
world  of  softest  velvet,  like  a  great  alcove  curtained  by 
the  plush  of  the  tjemaras,  while  the  distant,  sultry  rain- 
clouds,  hanging  all  that  month  on  the  horizon,  ringed 
the  skies  with  an  oppressive  spell.  Mystery  and  en- 
chantment hovered  through  the  velvety  night,  drifting 
down  in  the  twilit  alcove ;  and  at  their  touch  all  thought 
was  dissolved,  the  very  soul  dissolved,  leaving  only  a 
warm,  sensuous  vision.     .     .     . 

The  tokke  fell  silent,  the  gardoe  dropped  asleep;  the 
velvety  night  reigned  like  an  enchantress  crowned  with 
the  sickle  of  the  moon.  They  came  walking  slowly, 
two  youthful  figures,  their  arms  about  each  other's 
waists,  lips  seeking  lips  under  the  tyranny  of  the  en- 
chantment. They  were  as  shadows  under  the  drawn 
velvet  of  the  tjemaras ;  and  softly.  In  their  white  gar- 
ments, they  dawned  on  the  beholder  like  the  eternal 
pair  of  lovers  who  are  forever  and  everywhere  repeat- 
ing themselves.  And  here  above  all  the  lovers  were 
inevitable  in  the  enchanted  night,  one  with  the  night, 
conjured  up  by  the  all-powerful  enchantress ;  here  they 
were  inevitable,  unfolding  like  a  twin  flower  of  pre- 
destined love.  In  the  velvet  mystery  of  the  compelling 
heavens. 

And  the  tempter  seemed  to  be  the  son  of  that  night, 
the  son  of  that  Inexorable  queen  of  the  night,  bearing 
with  him  the  tender  girl.  In  her  ears  the  night  seemed 
to  sing  with  his  voice ;  and  her  small  soul  melted  within 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  109 

her  tender  weakness,  under  the  magic  powers.  She 
walked  on  against  his  side,  feeUng  the  warmth  of  his 
body  penetrate  her  yearning  maidenhood;  and  she 
lifted  her  brimming  gaze  to  him,  with  the  languid  light 
of  her  sparkling  pupils  glittering  like  a  diamond  in  her 
irises.  He,  drunk  with  the  power  of  the  night,  the 
enchantress,  who  was  as  his  mother,  thought  first  of 
leading  her  still  farther,  no  longer  thinking  of  reality, 
no  longer  feeling  any  awe  of  her  or  of  any  one  what- 
ever; thought  of  leading  her  still  farther,  past  the 
slumbering  gardoe,  across  the  high  road,  into  the  com- 
pound, which  lay  hidden  yonder  between  the  stately 
plumes  of  the  coco-palms  that  would  form  a  canopy  to 
their  love;  of  leading  her  to  a  hiding-place,  a  house 
which  he  knew,  a  bamboo  hut  the  door  of  which  would 
be  opened  to  him  .  .  .  w^ien  suddenly  she  stopped 
.  .  .  and  started  .  .  .  and  gripped  his  arm 
and  pressed  herself  still  more  tightly  against  him  and 
implored  him  to  go  no  farther.     She  was  frightened. 

"Why  not  ?"  he  asked,  gently,  in  his  soft  voice,  which 
was  as  deep  and  velvety  as  the  night.  "Why  not  to- 
night, to-night  at  last?     .     .     .     There  is  no  danger." 

But  she  shuddered  and  shook  and  entreated : 

"Addie,  Addie,  no  ...  no  ...  I  daren't 
go  any  farther.  .  .  .  I'm  frightened  that  the  gar- 
doe  will  see  us  .  .  .  and  then  .  .  .  there's  a 
hadji  walking  over  there  ...  in  a  white  turban. 
.     •     . 

He  looked  out  at  the  road:  on  the  other  side,  the 
compound  lay  waiting,  under  the  canopy  of  the  coco- 
palms,  with  the  bamboo  hut  whose  door  would  be 
opened  to  him. 

"A  hadji?  .  .  .  Where,  Doddie?  I  don't  see 
any  one.     .     ." 


110  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"He  crossed  the  road ;  he  looked  back  at  us ;  he  saw 
us:  I  saw  his  eyes  gleaming;  and  he  went  into  the 
compound,  behind  those  trees." 

"Darling,  I  saw  nothing,  there's  no  one  there." 

"Yes,  there  is !  Yes,  there  is !  Addie,  I  daren't  go : 
oh,  do  let  us  go  back !" 

His  handsome  Moorish  face  became  overcast;  he 
already  saw  the  door  of  the  little  hut  opened  by  the  old 
woman  whom  he  knew,  who  worshipped  him  as  every 
woman  worshipped  him,  from  his  mother  to  his  little 
nieces. 

And  he  again  tried  to  persuade  her,  but  she  refused, 
stood  still,  clinging  to  the  ground  with  her  little  feet. 
Then  they  turned  back  and  the  clouds  were  sultrier,  low 
on  the  horizon,  and  the  velvety  darkness  fell  more 
thickly,  like  warm  snow,  and  the  ravelled  tjemaras  were 
fuller  and  blacker  than  before.  The  house  loomed  up 
before  them,  sunk  In  sleep,  with  not  a  light  showing. 
And  he  entreated  her,  he  implored  her  not  to  leave  him 
that  night,  saying  that  he  would  die,  that  night,  without 
her.  .  .  .  Already  she  was  yielding,  promising, 
with  her  arms  around  his  neck  .  .  .  when  again 
she  started  and  again  cried: 

"Addie!  Addie!  .  .  .  There  he  is  again! 
.     .     .     That  white  figure !     .     .     ." 

"You  appear  to  see  hadjis  everywhere!"  he  said, 
banteringly. 

"Look  for  yourself  then     .     .     .     over  there!" 

He  looked  and  now  really  saw  a  white  figure  ap- 
proaching them  in  the  front-verandah.  But  it  was  a 
woman. 

"Mamma!"  cried  Doddie,  in  dismay. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  111 

It  was  indeed  Leonie,  slowly  coming  towards  them: 
**Doddie,"  she  said,  gently,  "I  have  been  hmiting  for 
you  everywhere.  I  was  so  frightened,  I  didn't  know 
where  you  were.  Why  do  you  go  out  walking  so  late  ? 
Addie,"  she  continued,  gently,  in  kind,  motherly  tones, 
as  though  addressing  two  children,  "how  can  you 
behave  like  tliis  and  be  out  with  Doddie  so  late?  You 
really  mustn't  do  it  again:  I  mean  it!  I  know  that 
there's  nothing  in  it;  but  suppose  any  one  saw  you! 
You  must  promise  me  never  to  do  it  again!  You'll 
promise,  won't  you  ?" 

She  begged  this  prettily,  in  tones  of  engaging  re- 
proach, as  though  to  show  that  she  quite  understood 
him,  quite  realized  that  they  were  yearning  for  each 
other  in  that  velvet  night  of  enchantment,  forgiving 
them  at  once  in  the  words  which  she  uttered.  She 
looked  like  an  angel,  with  her  round,  white  face  in  the 
loose,  waving,  fair  hair,  in  the  white  silk  kimono  w^hich 
hung  round  her  in  supple  folds.  And  she  drew  Doddie 
to  her  and  kissed  the  girl  and  wiped  away  Doddie's 
tears.  And  then,  gently,  she  pushed  Doddie  away,  to 
her  room  in  the  annexe,  where  she  slept  safely  between 
so  many  other  rooms  full  of  the  daughters  and  grand- 
children of  old  Mrs.  de  Luce.  And,  while  Doddie, 
softly  crying,  went  to  the  loneliness  of  that  room, 
Leonie  continued  to  speak  words  of  gentle  reproach  to 
Addie,  warning  him,  prettily  now,  as  a  sister  might  do, 
while  he,  brown  and  liandsome,  with  his  Moorish  look, 
stood  before  in  bantering  confusion.  They  were  in  the 
dusk  of  the  dark  front-verandah ;  and  the  night  outside 
exhaled  its  inexorable  breath  of  luxuriance,  love  and 
velvety  mystery.  And  she  reproached  him  and  W'arned 
him  and  said  that  Doddie  was  a  child  and  that  he  musn't 


112  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

take  advantage  of  her.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
defended  himself,  with  his  bantering  manner.  His 
words  fell  upon  her  like  gold-dust,  while  his  eyes  glit- 
tered like  a  tiger's.  As  she  argued  persuasively  that  he 
must  really  spare  Doddie  in  the  future,  she  seized  his 
hand,  that  hand  of  which  she  was  enamoured,  his 
fingers,  his  palm;  which  she  could  have  kissed  that 
morning  in  her  confusion;  and  she  pressed  it  and  al- 
most cried  and  implored  him  to  have  mercy  on  Doddie. 
.  .  He  suddenly  realized  it,  he  looked  at  her  sud- 
denly with  the  lightening  of  his  wild-animal  glance  and 
he  thought  her  beautiful,  thought  her  a  woman,  white 
as  milk,  and  he  knew  her  for  a  priestess  full  of  secret 
knowledge.  And  he  too  spoke  of  Doddie,  coming 
closer  to  Leonie,  touching  her,  pressing  her  hands  be- 
tween his  two  hands,  giving  her  to  understand  that  he 
understood.  And,  still  pretending  to  weep  and  entreat 
and  implore,  she  led  him  on  and  opened  the  door  of  her 
room.  He  saw  a  faint  light  and  her  maid  Oorip,  who 
disappeared  through  the  outer  door  and  lay  down  to 
sleep  there,  like  a  faithful  dog,  on  a  little  mat.  Then 
she  gave  him  a  laugh  of  welcome ;  and  he,  the  tempter, 
was  amazed  at  the  glowing  laugh  and  this  white,  fair- 
haired  temptress,  who  flung  off  her  silken  kimono  and 
stood  before  him,  like  a  nude  statue,  spreading  out  her 
arms. 

Oorip,  outside,  listened  for  a  moment.  And  she  was 
about  to  lie  down  to  sleep,  smiling,  dreaming  of  the 
lovely  sarongs  which  the  karndjeng  would  give  her  to- 
morrow, when  she  started  as  she  saw  walking  over  the 
grounds  and  disappearing  in  the  night  a  hadji  in  a 
white  turban.     .     .     . 


CHAPTER  XIV 

That  day,  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa,  Sunario's  younger 
brother,  was  to  pay  a  visit  at  Patjaram,  because 
Mrs.  van  Oudijck  was  leaving  on  the  following 
day.  They  sat  waiting  for  him  in  the  front-verandah, 
rocking  about  the  marble  table,  when  his  carriage  came 
rattling  down  the  long  avenue  of  tjemaras.  They  all 
stood  up.  And  now  it  appeared  more  plainly  than  ever 
how  highly  respected  the  old  Raden-Aju,  the  dowager, 
was,  how  closely  related  to  the  Susuhunan  himself,  for 
the  regent  alighted  and,  without  taking  another  step, 
squatted  on  the  lowest  stair  of  the  verandah  and 
salaamed  respectfully,  while,  behind  his  back,  a  re- 
tainer, holding  up  the  closed  gold-and-white  pajong 
like  a  furled  sun,  made  himself  still  smaller  and  shrank 
together  in  self-annihilation.  And  the  old  woman,  the 
Solo  princess,  who  saw  the  dalem  shining  before  her 
eyes  again,  went  to  him  and  welcomed  the  regent  in 
all  the  courtesy  of  palace  Javanese,  the  language  spoken 
among  princely  equals,  till  the  regent  rose,  and,  follow- 
ing her,  approached  the  family  circle.  And  the  manner 
in  which  he  then  for  the  iirst  time  bowed  to  the  wife 
of  his  resident,  however  polite,  was  almost  condescend- 
ing, compared  with  his  obsequiousness  of  a  moment 
ago.  .  .  .  He  now  sat  down  between  Mrs.  de 
Luce  and  Mrs.  van  Oudijck  and  a  drawling  conversa- 
tion began.  The  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa  was  a  different 
type  from  his  brother  Sunario,  taller,  coarser,  without 
the  other's  look  of  a  Tt'a^a/z^-puppet ;  though  younger, 
he  looked  the  older  of  the  two,  with  his  eyes  seamed 


114  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

with  passion:  the  passion'  for  women,  for  wine,  the 
passion  for  opium,  the  passion,  above  all,  for  gambling. 
And  a  silent  thought  seemed  to  flash  up  in  that  listless, 
drawling  conversation,  with  few  words  and  no  ideas, 
ever  and  again  interrupted  by  the  courtly  "Saja,  saja," 
behind  which  they  all  concealed  their  secret  longing. 
.  .  They  spoke  Malay  because  Mrs.  von  Oudijck  did 
not  dare  to  talk  Javanese,  that  refined,  difficult  lan- 
guage, full  of  shades  of  etiquette,  on  which  hardly  a 
single  Hollander  ventures  Avhen  speaking  to  Javanese 
persons  of  rank.  They  spoke  little,  they  rocked  gently ; 
a  vague,  courteous  smile  showed  that  all  were  taking 
part  in  the  conversation,  though  only  Mrs.  de  Luce  and 
the  regent  exchanged  an  occasional  word. 
Until  at  last  the  De  Luces — the  old  mother,  her  son 
Roger,  her  brown  daughters-in-law — were  no  longer 
able  to  restrain .  themselves,  not  even  in  Mrs.  van 
Oudijck's  presence,  and  laughed  shyly  while  drinks  and 
cake  were  being  handed  round ;  until,  notwithstanding 
their  courtesy,  they  rapidly  consulted  one  another,  over 
Leonie's  head,  in  a  few  words  of  Javanese;  until  the 
old  mother,  no  longer  mistress  of  herself,  at  last  asked 
her  whether  she  would  mind  if  they  had  a  little  game 
of  cards.  And  thev  all  looked  at  her,  the  wife  of  the 
resident,  the  wife  of  the  high  official  who,  they  knew, 
hated  the  gambling  which  was  their  ruin,  which  was 
destroying  the  grandeur  of  the  Javanese  families  whom 
he  wished  to  uphold  in  spite  of  themselves.  But  she 
was  too  indifferent  to  think  of  preventing  them  with  a 
single  word  of  tactful  jest,  for  her  husband's  sake;  she, 
the  slave  of  her  own  passion,  allowed  them  to  be  the 
slaves  of  theirs,  in  the  luxury  of  their  enslavement.  She 
just  smiled  and  readily  permitted  the  players  to  with- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  115 

draw  to  the  wide,  square  inner  gallery,  the  ladies,  eager- 
ly counting  the  money  in  their  handkerchiefs,  alternat- 
ing with  the  men,  until  they  sat  down  close  together  and, 
with  their  eyes  on  the  cards  or  spying  into  one  another's 
eyes,  gambled  and  gambled  endlessly,  winning,  losing, 
paying  or  receiving,  just  opening  and  closing  the  hand- 
kerchiefs containing  the  money,  with  not  a  word,  not 
a  sound  but  the  faint  rustle  of  the  cards  in  the  twilight 
of  the  inner  room.  Were  they  playing  slikiir  or  stoot- 
ercnf^  Leonie  did  not  know,  did  not  care,  indifferent 
to  that  passion  and  glad  that  Addie  had  remained  be- 
side her  and  that  Theo  was  glaring  at  him  jealously. 
Did  he  know,  did  he  suspect  anything  ?  Would  Oorip 
always  hold  her  tongue  ?  She  enjoyed  the  emotion  and 
she  wanted  them  both,  she  wanted  both  white  and 
brown;  and  the  fact  that  Doddie  was  sitting  on  the 
other  side  of  Addie  and  almost  swooning  as  she  rocked 
to  and  fro  afforded  her  an  acute  and  wicked  delight. 
What  else  was  there  in  life  but  to  yield  to  one's  luxuri- 
ous cravings?  She  had  no  ambition,  was  indifferent 
to  her  exalted  station;  she,  the  first  woman  in  the 
residency,  who  delegated  all  her  duties  to  Eva 
Eldersma,  who  was  quite  unmoved  when  hundreds  of 
people  at  the  receptions  at  Labuwangi,  Ngadjiwa  and 
elsewhere  greeted  her  with  a  ceremony  not  far  short  of 
royal  honours,  who  silently,  in  her  rosy,  perverse  day- 
dreams, with  a  novel  by  Catulle  Mendes  in  her  hands, 
laughed  at  that  exaggeration  of  the  people  up-country, 
where  the  wife  of  a  resident  is  treated  as  a  queen.  She 
had  no  other  ambition  than  to  be  loved  by  the  men 
whom  she  selected,  no  other  emotional  life  than  the 
worship  of  her  body,  like  an  Aphrodite  who  chose  to 

*The  first  is  a  native,  the  second  a  Dutch  card-game. 


116  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

be  her  own  priestess.  What  did  she  care  if  they  played 
cards  in  there,  if  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa  ruined  him- 
self completely!  On  the  contrary,  she  thought  it  inter- 
esting to  watch  that  downfall  on  his  seamed  face;  and 
she  would  take  care  to  be  even  more  carefully  groomed, 
to  let  Oorip  massage  her  face  and  limbs,  to  make  Oorip 
prepare  even  more  of  the  white  liquid  hedak,  the  won- 
derful cream,  the  magic  salve  of  which  Oorip  knew 
the  secret  and  which  kept  her  flesh  firm  and  unwrinkled 
and  white  as  a  mangistan.  She  thought  it  exciting  to 
see  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa  burning  away  like  a 
candle,  foolishly,  brutalized  by  women,  wine,  opium 
and  cards,  perhaps  most  of  all  by  cards,  by  the  stupid 
staring  at  cards,  gambling,  calculating  chances  which 
defied  calculation,  superstitiously  calculating,  reckoning 
by  the  science  of  the  petangans^  the  day  and  the  hour 
when  he  should  play  in  order  to  win,  the  number  of  the 
players,  the  amount  of  his  stake.  .  .  .  Now  and 
then  she  took  a  furitive  glance  at  the  faces  of  the 
players,  in  the  inner  gallery  darkened  by  twilight  and 
the  lust  of  gain,  and  reflected  on  what  Van  Oudijck 
would  say,  how  angry  he  would  be  if  she  told  him  about 
it  .  .  .  What  did  it  matter  to  him  if  the  regent's 
family  ruined  themselves  ?  What  did  his  policy  matter 
to  her,  what  did  the  whole  Dutch  policy  matter,  which 
aims  at  securing  the  position  of  the  Javanese  nobility, 
through  whom  it  governs  the  population  ?  What  did  it 
matter  to  her  that  Van  Oudijck,  thinking  of  the  noble 
old  Pangeran,  felt  grieved  at  his  children's  visible  de- 
cline ?  None  of  it  mattered  to  her ;  what  mattered  was 
only  herself  and  Addie  and  Theo.  She  must  really  tell 
her  step-son,  her  fair-haired  lover,  that  afternoon,  not 

*  Sacred  prognostications-  of  fortune. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  117 

to  be  so  jealous.  It  was  becoming  obvious ;  she  was 
sure  that  Doddie  noticed  it.  .  .  .  Didn't  she  save  the 
poor  child  yesterday  ?  But  how  long  would  that  yearn- 
ing last?  Hadn't  she  better  warn  Van  Oudijck,  like  a 
kind,  sohcitous  mother?  .  .  .  Her  thoughts  wan- 
dered languidly ;  it  was  a  sultry  morning,  in  those  last, 
scorching  days  of  the  eastern  monsoon,  which  covers 
the  lim.bs  with  trickling  moisture.  Then  her  body 
quivered.  And,  leaving  Doddie  with  Addie,  she  car- 
ried Theo  off  and  reproached  him  for  looking  so  savage 
with  impotent  jealousy.  She  pretended  to  be  a  little 
angry  and  asked  him  what  he  wanted. 

They  had  gone  to  the  side  of  the  house,  to  the  long 
side-verandah;  there  were  monkeys  here  in  a  cage, 
with  skins  strewn  all  around  from  the  bananas  which 
the  animals  had  eaten,  fed  to  them  by  the  children. 

The  luncheon-gong  had  already  sounded  twice;  the 
habus  were  squatting  in  the  back  verandah,  rubbing 
each  one's  sanihal.  But  the  people  around  the  card- 
table  seemed  to  hear  nothing.  Only  the  whispering 
voices  became  louder  and  shriller;  and  both  Leonie 
and  Theo,  both  Addie  and  Doddie  sat  up  and  listened. 
A  dispute  seemed  suddenly  to  burst  forth  between 
Roger  and  the  regent,  notwithstanding  Mrs.  de  Luce's 
attempts  to  hush  it.  They  spoke  Javanese,  but  they 
let  all  courtesy  go  to  the  winds.  Like  two  coolies,  they 
abused  each  other  for  cheats,  constantly  interrupted  by 
the  soothing  efforts  of  old  Airs,  de  Luce,  supported 
by  her  daughters  and  daughters-in-law.  But  the  chairs 
were  roughly  thrust  back;  a  glass  was  broken.  Roger 
seemed  to  dash  his  cards  down  in  anger.  All  the 
women  in  the  inner  room  joined  in  the  soothing,  with 
high  voices,  with  stifled  voices,  in  whispers,  with  little 


118  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

exclamations,  with  little  cries  of  apolog>'  and  indigna- 
tion. The  servants,  innumerable,  were  listening  in 
every  corner  of  the  house.  Then  the  dispute  abated, 
but  long,  explanatory  arguments  still  continued  be- 
tween the  regent  and  Roger ;  the  women  tried  to  hush 
them  down — "Ssh !  .  .  .  Ssh !" — embarrassed  be- 
cause of  the  resident's  wife,  looking  out  to  see  where 
she  might  be.  And  at  last  all  was  quiet  and  they  sat 
down  silently,  hoping  that  not  too  much  of  the  dispute 
had  reached  her  ears.  Until  at  length,  very  late — it 
was  almost  three  o'clock — old  Mrs.  de  Luce,  with  the 
gambling-passion  still  blazing  in  her  dim  eyes,  summon- 
ing all  her  distinction  and  her  princely  prestige,  went 
to  the  verandah  and,  as  though  nothing  had  happened, 
asked  Mrs.  van  Oudijck  if  she  would  not  come  in  to 
lunch. 


CHAPTER  XV 

Yes,  Theo  knew.  He  had  spoken  to  Oorip  after 
lunch ;  and  although  the  maid  had  at  first  tried  to  deny 
everything,  afraid  of  losing  the  sarongs,  she  had  been 
unable  to  continue  lying  and  had  contented  herself  with 
feeble  little  protests  of  no  .  .  .no.  ,  .  .  And, 
still  early  that  same  afternoon,  raging  with  jealousy  he 
sought  out  Addie.  But  Theo  was  calmed  by  the  indif- 
ferent composure  of  the  good-looking  youth,  with  his 
Moorish  face,  already  so  fully  sated  with  his  conquests 
that  he  himself  never  felt  any  jealousy.  Theo  was 
calmed  by  the  complete  absence  of  thought  in  this 
tempter,  with  his  instant  forgetfulness  after  an  hour 
of  love,  a  forgetfulness  so  harmonious  that  he  looked 
up  with  eyes  of  ingenuous  surprise  when  Theo,  red  and 
boiling  with  fury,  burst  into  his  room  and,  standing 
before  his  bed — where  he  was  lying  quite  naked,  as 
was  his  habit  during  his  siesta,  with  the  magnificence 
of  a  bronze  statute,  sublime  as  an  ancient  sculpture — 
declared  that  he  would  strike  him  across  the  face.  And 
Addie's  surprise  was  so  artless,  his  indifference  so 
harmonious,  he  seemed  to  have  so  utterly  forgotten 
his  hour  of  love  of  the  night  before,  he  laughed  so 
serenely  at  the  idea  of  fighting  about  a  woman  that 
Theo  quieted  down  and  came  and  sat  on  the  edge  of 
his  bed.  And  then  Addie,  who  was  a  couple  of  years 
younger  but  possessed  incomparable  experience,  told 
him  that  he  really  mustn't  do  this  again,  get  so  angry 
about  a  woman,  a  mistress  who  gave  herself  to  another. 
And  Addie  patted  him  on  the  shoulder  with  almost 


120  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

fatherly  compassion;  and  now,  since  they  understood 
each  other,  they  went  on  confidentially  chatting  and 
pumped  each  other. 

They  exchanged  further  confidences,  about  women, 
about  girls.  Theo  asked  if  Addie  was  going  to  marry 
Doddie.  But  Addie  said  that  he  wasn't  thinking  of 
marrying  and  that  the  resident  wouldn't  be  willing 
either,  because  he  didn't  care  for  Addie's  family  and 
thought  them  too  Indian.  Then  in  a  single  word  he  let 
slip  his  pride  in  his  Solo  descent  and  his  pride  in  the 
halo  which  shone  dimly  behind  the  heads  of  all  the 
De  Luces.  And  Addie  asked  if  Theo  knew  that  he  had 
a  young  brother  running  wild  in  the  compound.  Theo 
knew  nothing  about  it.  But  Addie  assured  him  that  it 
was  so:  a  young  son  of  papa's,  mark  you,  from  the 
time  when  the  old  man  was  still  controller  at  Ngad- 
jiwa;  a  fellow  of  their  own  age,  quite  sinjo-fitd:  the 
mother  was  dead.  Perhaps  the  old  man  himself  didn't 
know  that  he  still  had  a  child  in  the  compound,  but  it 
was  true,  everybody  knew  it:  the  regent  knew,  the 
patih^  knew,  the  zvedono"  knew  and  the  meanest  coolie 
l<new.  There  was  no  actual  proof:  but  a  thing  like 
that,  which  was  known  the  whole  world  over,  was  as 
true  as  that  the  world  itself  existed.  .  .  What  did 
the  fellow  do?  Nothing,  except  curse  and  swear,  de- 
claring that  he  was  a  son  of  the  Kandjeng  Tuan  Resi- 
den  who  allowed  him  to  rot  in  the  compound.  .  .  . 
What  did  he  live  on  ?  On  nothing,  on  what  he  got  by 
shameless  begging,  on  what  people  gave  him  and  then 
.  .  .  by  all  sorts  of  practices:  by  going  round  the 
districts,  through  all  the  dessas,  and  asking  if  there 

*  Native  councillor  to  the  regent 

*  Head  of  a  district 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  121 

were  any  complaints  and  then  drawing  up  little  peti- 
tions; by  encouraging  people  to  go  to  Mecca  and  let 
him  book  their  passages  with  very  cheap  little  steamship 
companies  of  which  he  was  the  unofficial  agent:  he 
would  go  to  the  farthest  dcssa  and  display  coloured 
posters  representing  a  steamer  full  of  Mecca  pilgrims 
and  the  Kaaba}  and  the  Sacred  Tomb  of  Mohammed. 
He  would  mess  around  like  this,  sometimes  mixed  up 
in  rows,  once  in  a  kctjii,-  sometimes  dressed  msi  sarong, 
sometimes  in  an  old  striped  calico  suit;  and  he  slept 
anywhere.  And,  when  Theo  showed  surprise  and  said 
that  he  had  never  heard  of  this  half-brother  of  his  and 
expressed  curiosity,  Addie  suggested  that  they  should 
go  and  look  him  up,  if  he  was  to  be  found  in  the  com- 
pound. And  Addie  gaily  and  quickly  took  his  bath 
and  put  on  a  clean  white  suit ;  and  they  went  across  the 
road  and  along  the  rice-fields  into  the  compound. 

It  was  already  dusk  under  the  heavy  trees:  the 
bananas  lifted  the  cool  green  paddles  of  their  leaves; 
and,  under  the  state  canopy  of  the  coco-palms  the  little 
bamboo  houses  hid,  poetically  oriental,  idyllic  with  their 
atap^  roofs,  their  doors  often  already  closed,  or,  if 
open,  framing  the  little  black  inward  vista,  with  the 
vague  outline  of  a  halch-balch*  on  which  squatted  a 
dark  figure.  The  hairless,  mangy  dogs  barked ;  the 
children,  naked,  with  bells  dangling  from  their  stom- 

*  The  building  at  Mecca  containing  the  famous  black  stone  said 
to  have  come  from  Paradise  whiter  than  milk  and  to  have  been 
changed  to  black  by  the  sins  of  the  children  of  Adam  who  have 
touched  it.  All  Moslems  turn  in  the  direction  of  the  Kaaba 
when  praying. 

*  Robbery. 

"  Palm-leaf. 

*  Bench  or  couch. 


122  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

achs,  ran  indoors  and  stared  out  of  the  houses;  the 
women  kept  quiet,  recognizing  the  tempter  and  vaguely- 
laughing,  blinking  their  eyes  as  he  passed  in  his  glory. 
And  Addie  pointed  to  the  little  house  where  his  old 
babu  lived,  Tidjem,  the  woman  who  helped  him,  who 
always  opened  her  door  to  him  when  he  wanted  the 
use  of  her  hut,  who  worshipped  him  as  his  mother  and 
his  sisters  and  his  little  nieces  worshipped  him.  He 
showed  Theo  the  house  and  thought  of  his  walk  last 
night  with  Doddie  under  the  tjemaras.  Tidjem  the 
babu  saw  him  and  ran  up  to  him  delightedly.  She 
squatted  down  beside  him,  she  pressed  his  leg  against 
her  withered  breast,  she  rubbed  her  forehead  against 
his  knee,  she  kissed  his  white  shoe,  she  gazed  at  him  in 
rapture,  her  beautiful  prince,  her  Raden,  whom  she 
had  rocked  as  a  little  chubby  boy  in  her  already  in- 
fatuated arms.  He  tapped  her  on  the  shoulder  and 
gave  her  a  rijksdaalder  and  asked  her  if  she  knew 
where  Si-Oudijck^  was,  because  his  brother  wished  to 
see  him. 

Tidjem  stood  up  and  beckoned  to  him  to  follow:  it 
was  some  way  to  walk.  And  they  stepped  out  of  the 
compound  into  an  open  road  with  rails  on  it,  by  which 
the  krandjangs"  of  sugar  were  removed  to  the  proas 
which  lay  moored  at  a  landing-stage  yonder,  in  the 
Brantas.  The  sun  was  going  down  in  a  fan-shaped 
glory  of  orange  sheaves;  and  the  distant  rows  of  trees 
that  outlined  the  bibit-fields  were  washed  in  with  dark, 
soft,  velvety  touches  against  their  arrogant  glow. 
These  fields  were  not  yet  planted,  but  their  dark,  earth- 
coloured  expanse  lay  as  broken  by  the  plough.    From 

^Si  is  a  slightly  depreciatory  prefix. 
'  Bamboo  baskets. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  123 

the  factory  came  a  few  men  and  women,  making  their 
way  home.  Beside  the  river,  by  the  landing-stage,  a 
small  passer  of  portable  kitchens  had  been  set  up  under 
a  sacred,  five-fold  waringin-tree,  with  its  five  trunks 
merging  into  one  another  and  its  wide-spreading  roots. 
Tidjem  called  the  ferry-man  and  he  put  them  across, 
across  the  orange  Brantas,  in  the  last  yellow  rays  of 
the  sun  outspread  fanwise  like  a  peacock's  tail.  When 
they  were  on  the  other  side,  the  night  fell  over  every- 
thing, like  the  hasty  fall  of  a  gauze  curtain ;  and  the 
clouds,  which  all  through  November  had  threatened 
the  low  horizons,  hung  oppressively  on  the  sultry  air. 
And  they  entered  another  compound,  lit  here  and  there 
by  a  paraffin-light,  set  down  on  the  ground,  in  a  long 
lamp-glass,  without  a  globe.  At  last  they  came  to  a 
little  house,  built  partly  of  bamboo,  partly  of  old 
packing-cases  and  roofed  partly  with  tiles,  partly  with 
atap.  Tidjem  pointed  to  it  and,  once  more  squatting 
on  the  ground  and  embracing  and  kissing  Addie's  knee, 
asked  permission  to  depart.  Addie  knocked  at  the 
door:  a  grumbling  and  rumbling  within  was  the  only 
answer;  but,  when  Addie  called  out,  the  door  was 
kicked  open  and  the  two  young  men  stepped  into  the 
one  room  of  which  the  hut  consisted:  half  bamboo, 
half  deal  boards  from  packing-cases;  a  haleh-haleh  with 
a  couple  of  dirty  pillows  in  a  corner,  with  a  limp  chintz 
curtain  dangling  in  front  of  it;  a  crazy  table  with  a 
chair  or  two ;  on  the  table,  a  paraffin-lamp,  without  a 
globe;  and  a  litter  of  oddments  stacked  on  a  packing- 
case  in  a  comer.  Everything  was  permeated  with  an 
acrid  odour  of  opium. 

And   Si-Oudijck  was  sitting  at  the  table  with  an 
Arab,  while  a  Javanese  woman  squatted  on  the  balch- 


124  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

haleh,  preparing  herself  a  sirih-\e3.i.  A  few  sheets  of 
paper  lay  on  the  table  between  the  Arab  and  the  s-injo. 
The  last-named,  evidently  annoyed  by  the  unexpected 
visit,  hurriedly  crumpled  the  papers  together.  But  he 
recovered  his  composure  and,  assuming  a  jovial  air, 
cried: 

''Hullo,  Adipati !  Susuhunan !  Sultan  of  Patjaram ! 
Sugar-lord !  How  are  you,  my  god  of  beauty,  the  ruin 
of  all  good  women  ?" 

His  jovial  torrent  of  greetings  continued  without 
ceasing  while  he  scrambled  the  papers  together  and 
made  a  sign  to  the  Arab,  who  disappeared  through  the 
other  door,  at  the  back. 

"And  who's  that  with  you,  Raden  Mas  Adrianus, 
my  bonnie  Lucius  ?" 

"It's  your  young  brother,"  said  Addie. 

Si-Oudijck  looked  up  suddenly: 

"Oh,  Is  it  really?"  said  he,  speaking  broken  Dutch, 
Javanese  and  Malay  in  the  same  breath.  "I  can  see  it 
is:  my  legitimate  one.  And  what  does  the  fellow 
want?" 

"He's  come  to  see  what  you're  like." 

The  two  brothers  looked  at  each  other:  Theo  In- 
quisitively glad  to  have  made  this  discovery  as  a 
weapon  against  the  old  man,  If  the  weapon  ever  became 
necessary;  the  other,  Sl-Oudijck,  secretly  restraining, 
behind  his  brown,  crafty,  leering  face,  all  his  jealousy, 
all  his  bitterness  and  hatred. 

"Is  this  where  you  live  ?"  asked  Theo,  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something. 

"No,  I'm  just  staying  with  her  for  the  time  being," 
replied  Si-Oudijck,  with  a  jerk  of  his  head  towards 
the  woman. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  125 

"Has  your  mother  been  dead  long?" 

"Yes.  Yours  is  still  alive,  isn't  she?  She  lives  in 
Batavia.    I  know  her.    Do  you  ever  see  her?" 

"No." 

"H'm.     .     .     .     Prefer  your  step-mother?" 

"Pretty  M^ell,"  said  Theo,  drily.  And,  changing  the 
subject,  "I  don't  believe  the  old  man  knows  that  you 
exist." 

"Yes,  he  does." 

"I  doubt  it.     Have  you  ever  spoken  to  him?" 

"Yes,  formerly.     Years  ago." 

"Well?" 

"No  use.    He  says  I'm  not  his  son." 

"It  must  be  difficult  to  prove." 

"Legally,  yes.  But  it's  a  fact  and  everybody  knows 
it.    It's  known  all  over  Ngadjiwa." 

"Have  you  no  sort  of  evidence?" 

"Only  the  oath  which  my  mother  took  when  she  was 
dying,  before  witnesses." 

"Come,  tell  me  things,"  said  Theo.  "Walk  a  bit  of 
the  way  with  us:    it's  stuffy  in  here." 

They  left  the  hut  and  sauntered  back  through  the 
compounds,  while  Si-Oudijck  told  his  story.  They 
strolled  along  the  Brantas,  which  wound  vaguely  In 
the  evening  dusk  under  a  sky  powdered  with  stars. 

It  did  Theo  good  to  hear  about  all  this,  about  that 
housekeeper  of  his  father's,  in  the  days  of  his  con- 
trollership,  rejected  for  an  infidelity  of  w^hich  she  was 
guiltless;  the  child  born  later  and  never  recognized, 
never  maintained ;  the  boy  wandering  from  compound 
to  compound  romantically  proud  of  his  inhuman  father, 
w^hom  he  watched  from  a  distance,  following  him  with 
his  furtive  glance  when  the  father  became  assistant- 


126  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

resident  and  resident,  married,  divorced  his  wife  and 
married  again;  by  slow  degrees  learning  to  read  and 
write  from  a  magang'^  of  his  acquaintance.  It  did  the 
legitimate  son  good  to  hear  about  all  this,  because  in 
his  innermost  self,  fair-haired  and  fair-skinned  though 
he  might  be,  he  was  more  the  son  of  his  mother,  the 
nonna,  than  of  his  father;  because  in  his  innermost 
self  he  hated  his  father,  not  for  this  or  that  reason,  but 
from  a  secret  antipathy  in  his  blood,  because,  despite 
the  appearance  and  behaviour  of  a  fair-haired  and  fair- 
skinned  European,  he  felt  a  secret  kinship  for  this 
illegitimate  brother,  felt  a  vague  sympathy  for  him. 
Were  they  not  both  sons  of  the  self -same  motherland, 
for  which  their  father  felt  nothing  except  as  a  result 
of  his  acquired  development,  the  artificially,  humanely 
cultivated  love  of  the  ruler  for  the  territory  which  he 
governs.  From  his  childhood  Theo  had  felt  like  that, 
far  removed  from  his  father ;  and  later  that  antipathy 
had  grown  into  a  slumbering  hatred.  It  gave  him 
pleasure  to  hear  demolished  that  impeccability  of  his 
father,  a  magnanimous  man,  a  functionary  of  the  high- 
est integrity,  who  loved  his  domestic  circle,  who  loved 
his  residency,  who  loved  the  Javanese,  who  was  anxious 
to  uphold  the  regent's  family,  not  only  because  his 
official  instructions  prescribed  that  the  Javanese  no- 
bility should  be  respected,  but  because  his  own  heart 
told  him  as  much,  when  he  thought  of  the  noble  old 
Pangeran.  .  .  .  Theo  knew  that  his  father  was 
all  this,  blameless,  high-minded,  upright,  magnani- 
mous ;  and  it  did  him  good,  here,  in  the  mysterious  eve- 
ning beside  the  Brantas,  to  hear  that  blamelessness, 
that  high-minded,  iipright  magnanimity  torn  to  rib- 

^  Native  writer. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  127 

bons;  it  did  him  good  to  meet  an  outcast  who  in  one 
moment  spattered  that  high-throned  paternal  figure 
with  mud,  dragging  him  from  his  pedestal,  making  him 
appear  no  higher  than  another,  sinful,  wicked,  heart- 
less, ungenerous.  It  filled  him  with  a  wicked  joy,  even 
as  he  was  filled  with  a  wicked  joy  at  possessing  his 
father's  wife,  whom  his  father  adored.  What  to  do 
with  this  dark  secret  he  did  not  yet  know,  but  he 
clutched  at  it  as  a  weapon ;  he  w^as  whetting  it  there, 
that  very  evening,  while  he  listened  to  the  end  to  what 
this  furtive-eyed  half-caste,  ranting  and  working  him- 
self up,  had  to  say.  And  Theo  hid  his  secret,  hid  his 
weapon  deep  down  within  himself. 

Grievances  rose  in  his  mind;  and  he  too  now,  the 
legitimate  son,  abused  his  father,  declared  that  the  resi- 
dent did  no  more  to  help  him,  his  own  lawful  son,  to 
get  on  than  he  would  do  for  any  of  his  clerks;  told 
him  how  he  had  once  recommended  him  to  the  manager 
of  an  impossible  undertaking,  a  rice-plantation,  where 
he  had  been  unable  to  stay  longer  than  a  single  month ; 
how  afterwards  he  had  left  him  to  his  fate,  thwarting 
him  w^hen  he  went  hunting  after  concessions,  even  in 
other  residencies,  even  in  Borneo,  until  he  was  now 
obliged  to  remain  hanging  about  and  sponging  at  home, 
unable  to  find  a  job,  thanks  to  his  father,  and  merely 
tolerated  in  that  house  where  he  disliked  everything. 

"Except  your  stepmother !"  Si-Oudijck  interpolated, 
drily. 

But  Theo  went  on,  growing  confidential  in  his  turn 
and  telling  his  brother  that  it  would  be  no  great  advan- 
tage for  him  even  if  he  were  acknowledged  and  legiti- 
matized. And  in  this  way  they  both  became  excited, 
glad  to  have  met  each  other,  to  have  grown  intimate 


128  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

in  this  brief  hour.     And  beside  them  walked  Addie, 
surprised  at  that  quick  mutual  attraction,  but  otherwise 
devoid  of  thought.    They  had  crossed  a  bridge  and  by 
a  circuitous  route  had  come  out  behind  the  Patjaram 
factory-buildings.     Here  Si-Oudijck  said  good-night, 
shaking  hands  with  Theo,  who  slipped  a  couple  of 
rijksdaalders  into  his  palm.    They  were  accepted  greed- 
ily, with  a  flicker  of  the  furtive  glance  but  not  a  word 
of  thanks.    And  Addie  and  Theo  went  past  the  factory, 
now  silent,  to  the  house.     The  family  were  strolling, 
outside,  in  the  garden  and  in  the  tjemara-avenue.  And, 
as  the  two  young  men  approached,  the  golden,  eight- 
year-old  child  came  running  towards  them,  the  old 
grandmother's  little  foster-princess,  with  her  fringe  of 
hair  and  her  whitened  forehead,  in  her  rich  little,  doll- 
like dress.     She  came  running  up  to  them  and  sud- 
denly stopped  in  front  of  Addie  and  looked  up  at  him. 
Addie  asked  her  what  she  wanted,  but  the  child  did 
not  answer  and  only  looked  up  at  him  and  then,  putting 
out  her  little  hand,  stroked  his  hand  with  it.     It  was 
all  so  clearly  the  result  of  an  irresistible  magnetism  in 
the  shy  child,  this  nmning  up,  stopping,  looking  up 
and  stroking,  that  Addie  laughed  aloud  and  stooped 
and  kissed  her  lightly.     The  child  skipped  back  con- 
tentedly.    And  Theo,  still  excited  by  his  evening,  first 
by  his  conversation  with  Oorip  and  then  by  his  explana- 
tion with  Addle,  his  meeting  with  his  half-brother,  his 
own  confidences  about  his  father,  was  so  greatly  Irri- 
tated by  this  trivial  behaviour  of  Addie  and  the  child, 
that  he  exclaimed,  almost  angrily: 

"Oh,  you     .     .     .     you'll  never  be  anything  but  a 
woman's  man !"..., 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Things  had  gone  well  with  Van  Oudijck  upon  the 
whole.  Bom  of  a  simple  Dutch  family,  with  no  money, 
he  had  found  his  youth  a  hard  but  never  cruel  school 
of  precocious  earnestness,  of  early  strenuous  work,  of 
immediate  looking  forward  to  the  future,  to  a  career, 
to  the  honourable  position  which  he  hoped  to  fill  with 
the  least  possible  delay  among  his  fellow-men.  His 
years  of  oriental  study  at  Delft  had  been  just  gay 
enough  to  enable  him  later  to  believe  that  he  had  once 
been  young;  and,  because  he  had  taken  part  in  a  mas- 
querade, he  even  thought  that  he  had  spent  quite  a 
dissolute  life,  with  much  squandering  of  money  and 
riotous  living.  His  character  was  built  up  of  much 
quiet  Dutch  respectability  and  an  earnest  outlook  upon 
life,  generally  rather  gloomy  and  wearying,  though  in- 
telligent and  practical :  he  was  accustomed  to  visualize 
his  honourable  position  among  his  fellow-men ;  and  his 
ambition  had  developed  rhythmically  and  steadily  into 
a  temperate  thirst  for  position,  but  only  on  the  lines 
along  which  his  eyes  were  always  wont  to  gaze:  the 
hierarchical  lines  of  the  Indian  Civil  Service.  Things 
had  always  gone  well  with  him.  Displaying  great  ca- 
pacity, he  had  been  greatly  valued ;  he  had  become  an 
assistant-resident  earlier  than  most  and  a  resident  while 
still  young;  and,  his  ambition  was  now  really  satisfied 
because  his  authoritative  office  was  in  complete  har- 
mony with  his  nature,  whose  love  of  rule  had  prog- 
ressed with  its  ambition.  He  was  now  really  satisfied ; 
and,  though  his  eyes  looked  still  much  farther  ahead 


130  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

and  saw  glimmering  before  them  a  seat  on  the  Indian 
Council  and  even  the  throne  at  Buitenzorg,  he  had  days 
when,  serious  and  contented,  he  declared  that  to  become 
a  resident  of  the  first  class — putting  aside  the  higher 
pension — ^had  little  in  its  favour  except  at  Samarang 
and  Surabaya,  but  that  the  Vorstenlanden  were  abso- 
lutely a  burden  and  Batavia  occupied  such  a  peculiar 
and  almost  derogatory  position,  in  the  thick  of  so  many 
higher  officials,  members  of  Council  and  directors. 
And,  though  his  eyes  thus  looked  farther  ahead,  his 
practical  and  temperate  nature  would  have  been  quite 
satisfied  if  any  one  could  have  prophesied  to  him  that 
he  would  die  as  Resident  of  Labuwangi.  He  loved  his 
district  and  loved  India ;  he  never  yearned  for  Holland, 
nor  for  the  pageant  of  European  civilization,  even 
though  he  himself  had  remained  very  Dutch  and  above 
all  hated  anything  that  was  half-caste.  This  was  the 
inconsistency  in  his  character,  for  he  had  married  his 
first  wife,  a  norma,  purely  out  of  affection;  and,  as  for 
his  children,  in  whom  the  Indian  blood  was  eloquent — 
outwardly  in  Doddie,  inwardly  in  Theo,  while  Rene 
and  Ricus  were  two  thorough  little  sinjos — ^he  loved 
them  with  an  intense  feeling  of  paternity,  with  all  the 
tenderness  and  sentiment  that  slumbered  In  the  depths 
of  his  nature:  a  need  to  give  much  and  receive  much 
in  the  circle  of  his  domestic  life.  Gradually  this  need 
had  extended  to  the  circle  of  his  district:  he  took  a 
paternal  pride  in  his  assistant-residents  and  controllers, 
among  whom  he  was  popular  and  beloved.  It  had  hap- 
pened only  once  In  the  six  years  during  which  he  had 
been  Resident  of  Labuwangi  that  he  had  been  unable 
to  get  on  with  a  controller:  then  the  man  was  a  half- 
caste  and  he  had  had  him  transferred,  had  him  sacked. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  13! 

as  he  put  it.  And  he  was  proud  that,  despite  his  strict 
disciphne,  despite  his  stem  insistence  on  work,  he  was 
beloved  by  his  officials.  He  was  all  the  more  grieved 
by  the  constant  secret  enmity  of  the  regent,  his 
"younger  brother,"  to  use  the  Javanese  title,  in  whom 
indeed  he  \vould  gladly  have  found  a  younger  brother 
to  govern  his  native  population  under  himself,  the  elder 
brother.  It  grieved  him  that  matters  had  fallen  out 
tlius;  and  he  would  then  think  of  other  regents,  not 
only  of  this  one's  father,  the  noble  Pangeran,  but  of 
others  whom  he  knew:  the  Regent  of  D ,  a  culti- 
vated man,  speaking  and  writing  Dutch  correctly,  con- 
tributing lucid  Dutch  articles  to  newspapers  and  maga- 
zines; the  Regent  of  S ,  a  trifle  frivolous  and  vain, 

but  very  rich  and  very  benevolent,  figuring  as  a  dandy 
in  European  society  and  polite  to  the  ladies.  Why 
should  things  have  fallen  out  just  so  In  Labuwangi, 
with  this  silent,  spiteful,  secretive  fanatical  wagang- 
puppet,  with  his  reputation  as  a  saint  and  sorcerer, 
stupidly  idolized  by  the  people,  in  whose  welfare  he 
took  no  interest  and  who  adored  him  only  for  the 
glamour  of  his  ancient  name,  a  man  in  whom  he  always 
felt  an  antagonism,  never  uttered  in  words,  but  yet  so 
plainly  palpable  under  his  icy  correctness  of  de- 
meanour? And  then  at  Ngadjiwa  too  there  was  the 
brother,  the  card-player,  the  gambler:  why  should  just 
he  be  so  unlucky  In  his  regents  ? 

Van  Oudijik  was  in  a  gloomy  mood.  He  was  ac- 
customed to  receiving,  at  regular  intervals,  anonymous 
letters,  venomous  libels  spewed  forth  from  quiet  cor- 
ners, bespattering  at  one  time  an  assistant-resident,  at 
another  a  controller,  besmirching  now  the  native  head- 
men and  now  his  own  family;  sometimes  taking  the 


132  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

fonn  of  a  friendly  warning,  sometimes  displaying  a 
malicious  delight  in  wounding,  very,  very  anxious  to 
open  his  eyes  to  the  shortcomings  of  his  officials  and 
to  his  wife's  misconduct.  He  was  so  completely  used 
to  this  that  he  did  not  count  the  letters,  reading  them 
hastily  or  hardly  at  all  and  carelessly  destroying  them. 
Accustomed  as  he  was  to  judging  for  himself,  the  spite- 
ful warnings  made  no  impression  on  him,  though  they 
reared  their  heads  like  hissing  snakes  among  all  the 
letters  which  the  post  brought  him  daily;  and  as  re- 
gards his  wife  he  was  so  blind,  he  had  always  been  so 
much  in  the  habit  of  picturing  Leonie  in  the  tranquillity 
of  her  smiling  indifference  and  in  the  home-like  socia- 
bility which  she  most  certainly  attracted  round  her — in 
the  hollow  void  of  the  residency,  whose  chairs  and 
ottomans  seemed  always  arranged  for  a  reception — 
that  he  could  never  have  credited  the  most  trivial  of 
all  the  slanders. 

He  never  mentioned  them  to  her.  He  loved  his  wife ; 
he  was  In  love  with  her;  and,  as  he  always  saw  her 
almost  silent  in  society,  as  she  never  flirted  or  co- 
quetted, he  never  glanced  into  the  depth  of  corruption 
that  was  her  soul.  At  home,  indeed,  he  was  absolutely 
blind.  At  home  he  displayed  that  utter  blindness  which 
is  often  seen  in  men  who  are  very  capable  and  efficient 
in  their  business  or  profession ;  who  are  accustomed  to 
scan  with  sharp  eyes  the  wide  perspective  of  their  of- 
ficial duties,  but  who  are  near-sighted  at  home ;  who  are 
wont  to  analyse  things  in  the  lump,  but  not  the  phycho- 
logical  details ;  whose  knowledge  of  mankind  is  based 
on  principles  and  who  divide  mankind  into  types,  as  in 
the  cast  of  an  old-fashioned  play;  who  can  at  once 
plumb  the  capacity  of  their  subordinates,  but  are  utter- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  133 

ly  unable  to  realize  the  intricate  complex,  like  a  tangled 
arabesque,  like  rankly-growing  tendrils,  of  the  psychic 
involution  of  those  who  form  their  own  household,  al- 
ways gazing  over  their  heads,  failing  to  grasp  the  inner 
meaning  of  their  speech  and  taking  no  interest  in  the 
kaleidoscopic  emotions  of  hatred  and  jealousy  and  life 
and  love  that  shine  with  prismatic  hues  right  before 
their  eyes.  He  loved  his  wife  and  he  loved  his  children 
because  the  feeling  and  the  fact  of  paternity  were  neces- 
sities of  his  being;  but  he  knew  neither  his  wife  nor  his 
children.  He  knew  nothing  about  Leonie ;  and  he  had 
never  realized  tliat  Theo  and  Doddie  had  secretly  re- 
mained faithful  to  their  mother,  so  far  away,  in  Bata- 
A'ia,  ruined  by  her  unspeakable  mode  of  life,  and  that 
they  felt  no  love  for  him.  He  thought  that  they  did 
give  him  their  love ;  and  as  for  him  .  .  .  when  he 
thought  of  them,  a  slumbering  affection  awoke  in  him. 
He  received  the  anonymous  letters  daily.  They  had 
never  made  an  impression  on  him ;  yet  he  no  longer  de- 
stroyed them,  but  read  them  attentively  and  put  them 
aside  in  a  secret  drawer.  He  could  not  have  said  why. 
They  contained  accusations  against  his  wife,  they  con- 
tained imputations  against  his  daughter.  They  sought 
to  intimidate  him  by  threatening  that  he  might  be 
stabbed  in  the  dark.  They  warned  him  that  his  spies 
were  utterly  untrustworthy.  They  told  him  that  his 
divorced  wife  was  suffering  from  poverty  and  hated 
him,  they  told  him  he  had  a  son  whom  he  had  left  tm- 
provided  for.  They  stealthily  grubbed  up  all  the  secret 
or  obscure  passages  in  his  life  and  his  career.  The 
thing  depressed  his  spirits  in  spite  of  himself.  It  was 
all  very  vague ;  and  he  had  nothing  with  which  to  re- 
proach himself.     In  his  own  eyes  and  the  world's  he 


134  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

was  a  good  official,  a  good  husband  and  a  good  father, 
he  was  a  good  man.  That  he  should  be  blamed  for 
having  judged  too  unjustly  and  unfairly  here,  for  hav- 
ing acted  cruelly  there,  for  having  divorced  his  first 
wife,  for  having  a  son  running  wild  in  the  compound ; 
that  p€ople  should  throw  mud  at  Leonie  and  Doddie: 
it  all  depressed  him  nowadays.  For  it  was  unaccount- 
able that  people  should  do  just  this.  To  this  man,  with 
his  practical  good  sense,  the  vagueness  was  just  the 
most  vexatious  part  of  it.  He  would  not  fear  an  open 
fight,  but  this  mock  battle  in  the  dark  upset  his  nerves 
and  his  health.  He  could  not  conceive  why  it  was 
happening.  There  was  nothing  to  tell  him.  He  could 
not  conjure  up  the  face  of  an  enemy.  And  the  letters 
came  day  after  day ;  and  every  day  enmity  lurked  in  the 
shadows  about  him.  It  was  too  mystical  and  too  much 
opposed  to  his  nature  not  to  embitter  and  depress  and 
sadden  him.  Then  paragraphs  appeared  in  the  lesser 
papers,  utterances  of  a  mean  and  hostile  press,  vague 
accusations  or  palpable  falsehoods.  Hatred  was  seeth- 
ing all  about  him.  He  could  not  fathom  the  reason  of 
it,  he  became  ill  from  brooding  over  it.  And  he  dis- 
cussed it  with  nobody  and  hid  his  suffering  deep  down 
within  himself. 

He  did  not  understand  it.  He  could  not  Imagine  vv^hy 
it  was,  why  it  should  be  so.  There  was  no  logic  in  it 
all.  Logically  he  should  be  loved,  not  hated,  however 
strict  and  authoritative  he  might  be  considered.  In- 
deed, did  he  not  often  temper  his  authoritative  strict- 
ness with  the  jovial  laugh  under  his  thick  moustache, 
with  a  friendly,  genial  warning  and  exhortation  ?  Was 
he  not  on  circuit  a  pleasant  resident,  who  regarded  the 
circuit  with  his  officials  as  a  relaxation,  as  a  delightful 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  135 

trip  on  horseback  through  the  coffee-plantations,  touch- 
ing at  the  coff Qe-guda?igs;  as  a  jolly  excursion,  which 
relaxed  one's  muscles  after  all  those  weeks  of  office- 
work:  the  big  staff  of  district  heads  following  on  their 
little  horses,  riding  their  skittish  animals  like  nimble 
monkeys,  with  flags  in  their  hands;  with  the  gamelan 
tinkling  out  its  blithe  crystal  notes  of  welcome  wher- 
ever he  went;  with  the  carefully  prepared  dinner  in  the 
pasangrahan^  of  the  ei'ening  and  the  rubber  till  late  at 
night?  Had  not  his  officials,  in  informal  moments, 
told  him  that  he  was  a  regular  sport  of  a  resident,  an 
indefatigable  rider,  jovial  at  meals  and  so  young  that 
he  would  actually  take  the  scarf  from  the  tanda1z-g\v\- 
and  tandak  with  her  for  a  moment,  very  cleverly  per- 
forming the  lissom  ritual  movements  of  the  hands  and 
feet  and  hips,  instead  of  buying  himself  off  with  a 
rijksdaaldcr  and  leaving  her  to  dance  with  the  zuedonof 
Never  did  he  feel  so  happy  as  on  circuit.  And  now 
that  he  was  gloomy  and  depressed,  dissatisfied,  not 
knowing  what  hidden  forces  were  opposing  him  in  the 
dusk — straight,  honest  man  that  he  was,  a  man  of 
simple  principles,  a  serious  worker — he  thought  that  he 
would  go  on  circuit  soon  and,  by  that  diversion,  rid 
himself  of  the  gloom  that  was  oppressmg  him.  He 
would  ask  Theo  to  go  with  him,  for  the  sake  of  a  few 
days'  change. 

He  was  fond  of  his  boy,  even  though  he  considered 
him  stupid,  thoughtless,  reckless,  lacking  In  persever- 
ance, never  satisfied  with  his  superiors,  tactlessly  op- 
posing his  manager,  until  he  had  once  more  made  him- 
self Impossible  In  the  coffee-plantation  or  sugar- factory 

*  Native  inn  for  the  use  of  officials. 
'  Native  dancing-girl,  nautch-girl. 


136  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

at  which  he  happened  to  be  employed.  He  considered 
that  Theo  ought  to  make  his  own  way,  as  his  father  had 
done  before  him,  instead  of  relying  entirely  on  the  resi- 
dent's protection.  He  did  not  hold  wdth  nepotism.  He 
would  never  favour  his  son  above  any  one  else  who  had 
the  same  rights.  He  had  often  told  nephews  of  his,  keen 
on  obtaining  concessions  in  Labuwangi,  that  he  would 
rather  have  no  relations  in  his  district  and  that  they 
must  expect  nothing  from  him  except  absolute  imparti- 
ality. That  was  how  he  had  got  on ;  that  was  how  he 
expected  them  to  get  on  .  .  .  and  Theo  too. 
Nevertheless,  he  silently  M^atched  Theo,  with  all  a 
father's  love,  with  an  almost  sentimental  tenderness: 
he  regretted,  silently  but  profoundly,  that  Theo  was 
not  more  persevering  and  did  not  look  more  closely  to 
his  future,  to  his  career,  to  an  honourable  situation 
among  his  fellow-men,  from  the  standpoint  of  either 
money  or  position.  The  lad  just  lived  from  day  to  day, 
without  a  thought  of  the  morrow.  .  .  .  Perhaps 
he  was  a  little  cold  to  Theo,  outwardly:  well,  he  would 
have  a  confidential  talk  with  him  some  day,  would  ad- 
vise him ;  and  now,  in  any  case,  he  would  ask  Theo  to 
go  with  him  on  circuit. 

And  the  thought  of  riding  for  five  or  six  days  in  the 
pure  air  of  the  mountains,  through  the  cofifee-planta- 
tions,  inspecting  the  irrigation-works,  doing  what  most 
of  all  attracted  him  in  his  ofiicial  duties:  the  thought  of 
this  relieved  his  soul,  brightened  his  outlook,  till  he 
ceased  to  think  about  the  letters.  He  was  made  for  a 
plain,  simple  life:  he  found  life  natural,  not  complex 
and  involved ;  his  life  had  followed  a  perceptible  ascent, 
open  and  gradual,  looking  out  towards  a  glittering 
summit  of  ambition;  and  the  things  that  teemed  and 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  137 

swarmed  in  the  shadows  and  the  darkness,  the  things 
that  bubbled  up  from  abyss:  these  he  had  never  been 
able  or  anxious  to  see.  He  was  blind  to  the  life  that 
works  under  life.  He  did  not  believe  in  it,  any  more 
than  a  mountaineer  who  has  lived  long  on  a  quiescent 
volcano  believes  in  the  inner  fire  which  persists  in  its 
mysterious  depths  and  escapes  only  in  the  form  of  hot 
steam  and  a  sulphurous  stench.  He  believed  neither  in 
the  force  above  things  nor  in  the  force  of  things  them- 
selves. He  did  not  believe  in  dumb  fate  nor  in  silent 
inevitability.  He  believed  only  in  what  he  saw  with  his 
own  eyes ;  in  the  harvest,  the  roads,  districts  and  dcssas 
and  in  the  w^elf are  of  his  province ;  he  believed  only  in 
his  career,  which  he  saw  before  him  like  an  ascending 
path.  And  in  the  unclouded  clarity  of  his  simple, 
masculine  nature,  in  the  universally  perceptible  obvious- 
ness of  his  upright  love  of  authority,  his  legimate  ambi- 
tion and  his  practical  sense  of  duty  there  was  only  one 
weak  point:  his  affection,  his  deep,  almost  effeminate, 
sentimental  affection  for  the  members  of  his  domestic 
circle  .  .  .  into  whose  soul  he  could  not  see,  being 
blind  and  seeing  only  in  the  light  of  his  fixed  principle, 
seeing  his  wife  and  children  as  they  ought  to  be. 

Experience  had  taught  him  nothing.  For  he  had 
loved  his  first  wife  also  as  he  now  loved  Leonle. 
He  loved  his  wife  because  she  was  his  first  wife, 
because  she  belonged  to  him,  because  she  was  the 
principal  person  in  his  circle.  He  loved  the  circle  as 
such  and  not  as  so  many  individuals  who  formed  its 
links.  Experience  had  taught  him  nothing.  His 
thoughts  were  not  in  accordance  with  the  changing 
hues  of  his  life:  they  accorded  with  his  ideas  and 
principles.    They  had  made  a  man  and  a  force  of  him 


138  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

and  also  a  good  official.  They  had  also  allowed  him 
as  a  rule  to  be  a  good  man,  according  to  his  lights. 
But,  because  he  possessed  so  much  affection,  uncon- 
scious, unanalysed  and  merely  felt  deeply,  and  because 
he  did  not  believe  in  the  hidden  force,  in  the  life  within 
life,  in  the  force  that  teemed  and  swarmed  like 
volcanic  fires  under  the  mountains  of  majesty,  like 
troubles  under  a  throne,  because  he  did  not  believe  in 
the  mysticism  of  tangible  things,  life  sometimes  found 
him  weak  and  unprepared  when — serene  as  the  gods 
and  more  powerful  than  men — it  deviated  from  what 
he  regarded  as  logical. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

The  mysticism  of  concrete  things  in  that  island  of 
mystery  which  is  Java!  .  .  .  Outwardly  the 
docile  colony  with  the  subject  race,  which  was  no  match 
for  the  rude  trader  who,  in  the  golden  age  of  his  re- 
public, with  the  young  strength  of  a  youthful  people, 
greedy  and  eager  for  gain,  plump  and  phlegmatic, 
planted  his  foot  and  his  flag  on  the  crumbling  empires, 
on  the  thrones  which  tottered  as  though  the  earth  had 
been  in  seismic  labour.  But,  down  in  its  soul,  it  was 
never  subjected,  though  smiling  in  proud  contemptuous 
resignation  and  bowing  submissively  beneath  its  fate ; 
deep  in  its  soul,  despite  a  cringing  reverence,  it  lived  in 
freedom  its  own  mysterious  life,  hidden  from  western, 
eyes,  however  these  might  seek  to  fathom  the  secret — 
as  though  with  a  philosophic  intention  of  maintaining 
before  all  a  proud  and  smiling  tranquillity,  pliantly 
yielding  and  to  all  appearances  courteously  approach- 
ing— but  deep  within  itself  divinely  certain  of  its  own 
views  and  so  far  removed  from  all  its  rulers'  ideals  of 
civilization  that  no  fraternization  between  master  and 
servant  will  ever  take  place,  because  the  difference 
which  ferments  in  soul  and  blood  remains  insuperable. 
And  the  European,  proud  in  his  might,  in  his  strength, 
in  his  civilization  and  his  humanity,  rules  arrogantly, 
blindly,  selfishly,  egoistically,  amidst  all  the  intricate 
cog-wheels  of  his  authority,  which  he  slips  into  gear 
with  the  certainty  of  clockwork,  controlling  Its  every 
movement,  till  to  the  foreigner,  the  outside  observer, 
this  overlordship  of  tangible  things,  this  colonizing  of 


140  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

territory  alien  in  race  and  mentality,  appears  a  master- 
piece, a  world  created. 

But  under  all  this  show  the  hidden  force  lurks, 
slumbering  now  and  unwilling  to  fight.  Under  all  this 
appearance  of  tangible  things  the  essence  of  that  silent 
mysticism  threatens,  like  a  smouldering  fire  under- 
ground, like  hatred  and  mystery  in  the  heart.  Under 
all  this  peace  of  grandeur  the  danger  threatens  and 
the  future  mutters  like  the  subterranean  thunder  in  the 
volcanoes,  inaudible  to  human  ears.  And  it  is  as 
though  the  subject  race  knows  it  and  leaves  matters  to 
the  latent  force  of  things  and  awaits  the  divine  moment 
that  is  to  come,  if  there  be  any  truth  in  the  calcula- 
tions of  the  mystics.  As  for  him,  he  reads  the  overlord 
with  a  single  penetrating  glance;  he  sees  in  him  the 
illusion  of  civilization  and  humanity  and  he  knows  that 
they  are  non-existent.  While  he  gives  him  the  title  of 
lord  and  the  hormaf-  due  to  the  master,  he  is  pro- 
foundly conscious  of  his  democratic,  commercial 
nature  and  despises  him  for  it  in  silence  and  judges 
him  with  a  smile  which  his  brother  understands ;  and 
he  too  smiles.  Never  does  he  offend  against  the  form 
of  slavish  servility  and,  with  his  semba,  he  acts  as 
though  he  were  the  inferior,  but  he  is  silently  aware 
that  he  is  the  superior.  He  Is  conscious  of  the  hidden, 
unuttered  force;  he  feels  the  mystery  borne  upon  the 
surging  winds  of  his  mountains,  In  the  silence  of  the 
secret,  sultry  nights ;  and  he  foresees  events  that  are  as 
yet  remote.  What  Is  will  not  always  be ;  the  present  is 
disappearing.  Dumbly  he  hopes  that  God  will  lift  up 
those  who  are  oppressed,  some  time,  some  time  In  the 
distant  advent  of  the  dawning  future.     But  he  feels 

*  Homage. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  141 

and  hopes  and  knows  it  in  the  innermost  depths  of  his 
soul,  which  he  never  unlocks  to  his  ruler,  which  he 
would  not  even  be  able  to  unlock,  which  always  remains 
an  indecipherable  book,  in  the  unknown,  untranslatable 
tongue  in  which  the  words  indeed  are  the  same  but  the 
shades  of  meaning  expressed  by  them  are  different  and 
in  which  the  manifold  hues  of  the  two  ideals  show 
different  spectra:  spectra  in  which  the  colours  differ 
as  though  given  forth  by  two  separate  suns,  rays  from 
two  separate  worlds.  And  never  is  there  the  harmony 
that  imderstands:  never  does  that  love  blossom  forth 
which  is  conscious  of  unity;  and  between  the  two  there 
is  always  the  gap,  the  chasm,  the  abyss,  the  distance,  the 
width  whence  looms  the  mystery  wheref rom,  as  from  a 
cloud,  the  hidden  force  will  one  day  flash  forth.     .     .     . 

So  it  was  that  Van  Oudijck  did  not  feel  the  mysti- 
cism of  tangible  things. 

And  the  serene  life,  as  of  the  gods,  might  well  find 
him  weak  and  unprepared.     .     .     . 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Ngadjiwa  was  a  gayer  place  than  Labuwangi:  there 
was  a  garrison;  managers  and  employers  often  came 
down  from  the  coffee-plantations  in  the  interior  for  a 
few  days'  amusement ;  there  were  races  twice  a  year, 
accompanied  by  festivities  which  filled  a  whole  month: 
the  reception  of  the  resident,  a  horse-rafBe,  a  battle  of 
flowers  and  an  opera,  two  or  three  balls,  distinguished 
by  the  revellers  as  the  fancy-dress  ball,  the  ceremonial 
ball  and  the  soiree  (lansante;  it  was  a  time  of  early  ris- 
ing and  late  retiring,  of  losing  hundreds  of  guilders  in  a 
few  days  at  ecarte  and  in  the  totalizator. 
The  longing  for  pleasure  and  the  cheery  joy  of  life 
were  freely  indulged  in  those  days ;  coffee-planters  and 
young  men  from  the  sugar-factories  looked  forward  to 
them  for  months  ahead ;  people  saved  for  them  during 
half  the  year.  The  two  hotels  were  filled  with  guests 
from  all  directions,  every  household  entertained  its 
visitors;  people  betted  furiously,  while  champagne 
flowed  in  torrents,  all,  including  the  ladies,  knowing  the 
race-horses  as  thoroughly  as  though  they  were  their 
own  property,  feeling  quite  at  home  at  the  dances, 
everybody  knowing  every-body,  as  at  family-parties, 
while  the  waltzes  and  Washington  Posts  and  grazianas 
were  danced  with  the  langorous  grace  of  the  Indo 
dancers,  to  a  swooning  measure,  the  trains  gently  float- 
ing, a  smile  of  quiet  rapture  on  the  parted  lips,  with 
that  dreamy  voluptuousness  which  the  Indian  settlers 
express  so  charmingly  In  their  dances,  especially  those 
who  have  Javanese  blood  in  their  veins.    Dancing  with 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  143 

them  Is  not  a  rough  diversion,  all  bumping  against  one 
another  with  rude  leaps  and  loud  laughter,  not  the  wild 
whirl  of  the  Lancers  as  at  Dutch  boy-and-girl  balls,  but 
represents,  especially  to  the  Indos,  nothing  but  courtesy 
and  grace:  a  serene  blossoming  of  the  poetry  of 
m.otion ;  a  gracefully  designed  curve  of  precise  steps  to 
a  pure  measure  over  the  club-room  floors;  an  almost 
eighteenth-century  harmony  of  youthful  nobility,  wav- 
ing and  trailing  and  swaying  in  the  dance,  despite  the 
primitive  boom-booming  of  the  Indian  musicians. 
This  was  how  Addie  de  Luce  danced,  with  the  eyes  of 
every  woman  and  girl  fixed  upon  him,  following  him, 
imploring  him  with  their  glances  to  take  them  with 
him  also  in  that  waving  and  undulating  motion,  which 
was  like  a  dream  upon  the  water.  ,  .  .  This  came 
to  him  with  his  mother's  blood,  this  was  .a  survival  of 
the  grace  of  the  srimpis^  among  whom  his  mother  had 
spent  her  childhood;  and  the  mingling  of  modem 
European  and  ancient  Javanese  gave  him  an  irresistible 
charm. 

And  now,  at  the  last  ball,  the  soiree  dansantc,  he  was 
dancing  like  this  with  Doddie  and,  after  her,  with 
Leonie.  It  was  late  at  night,  or  rather  early  in  the 
morning:  the  day  was  dawning  outside.  Fatigue 
hung  over  the  ball-room;  and  Van  Oudijck  at  last 
intimated  to  the  assistant-resident,  Vermalen,  with 
whom  he  and  his  family  were  staying,  that  he  was 
ready  to  go  home.  At  that  moment  he  was  in  the 
front-verandah  of  the  club,  talking  to  Vermalen,  when 
the  patih  suddenly  ran  up  to  him  from  the  shadow  of 
the  garden  and,  suffering  from  olwious  excitement, 
squatted,  salaamed  and  said: 

*  Dancers  at  a  native  court,  often  themselves  princesses. 


144  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"Kandjcng!  Kandjcng!  Please  advise  me,  tell  me 
what  to  do !  The  regent  is  drunk,  he  is  walking  along 
the  street  and  forgetting  all  his  dignity." 

The  guests  were  taking  their  departure.  The 
carriages  drove  up;  the  owners  stepped  in;  the  car- 
riages drove  away.  In  the  road  outside  the  club  the 
resident  saw  a  Javanese:  the  upper  part  of  the  man's 
body  was  bare ;  he  had  lost  his  head-dress ;  and  his  long, 
black  hair  floated  loosely,  while  he  talked  aloud,  with 
violent  gestures.  Groups  gathered  in  the  dusky 
shadow,  looking  on  from  a  distance. 

Van  Oudijck  recognized  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa. 
Already  at  the  ball  the  regent  had  behaved  without 
self-control,  after  losing  heavily  at  cards  and  mixing 
all  sorts  of  wines. 

"Hasn't  the  regent  been  home  yet?"  asked  Van 
Oudijck. 

"Surely,  kandjeng!"  replied  the  patih,  plaintively. 
"I  took  the  regent  home  as  soon  as  I  saw  that  he  was 
no  longer  able  to  control  himself.  He  flung  himself  on 
his  bed ;  I  thought  he  was  sound  asleep.  But  see,  he 
woke  and  got  up;  he  left  the  Kabupaten  and  came  back 
here.  See  how  he's  behaving!  He  is  drunk,  he  is 
drunk  and  he  forgets  who  he  is  and  who  his  fathers 
were !" 

Van  Oudijck  went  outside  with  Vermalen.  He 
walked  up  to  the  regent,  who  was  making  violent  ges- 
tures and  delivering  an  unintelligible  speech  in  a  loud 
voice. 

"Regent!"  said  the  resident.  "Don't  you  know 
where  and  who  you  are?" 

The  regent  did  not  recognize  him.  He  ranted  at 
Van  Oudijck,  he  called  dowoi  all  the  curses  of  heaven 
upon  his  head. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  145 

"Regent!"  said  the  assistant-resident.  "Don't  you 
know  who's  speaking  to  you  and  to  whom  you're  speak- 
ing?" 

The  regent  swore  at  Vermalen.  His  bloodshot  eyes 
flashed  with  drunken  fury  and  madness.  Assisted  by 
the  patih,  Van  Oudijck  and  Vermalen  tried  to  help  him 
into  a  carriage;  but  he  refused.  Splendid  and  sublime 
in  his  fall,  he  gloried  in  the  madness  of  his  tragedy,  he 
stood,  as  though  some  explosive  force  had  made  him 
beside  himself,  half-naked,  with  floating  hair  and  great 
gestures  of  his  crazy  arms.  He  was  no  longer  coarse 
and  bestial  but  became  tragic,  heroic,  fighting  against 
his  fate,  on  the  edge  of  the  abyss.  .  .  .  The  excess 
of  his  drunkenness  seemed  with  a  strange  force  to  raise 
him  out  of  his  gradual  bestialization ;  and,  fuddled  as 
he  was,  he  drew  himself  up,  towering  high,  dramati- 
cally, above  the  Europeans. 

Van  Oudijck  gazed  at  him  in  stupefaction.  The 
regent  was  now  coming  to  blows  with  the  patih,  who 
addressed  him  in  beseeching  tones.  On  the  road,  the 
population  collected,  silent,  dismayed;  the  last  guests 
were  leaving  the  club,  where  the  lights  were  growing 
dim.  Among  them  were  Leonie  van  Oudijck,  Doddie 
and  Addie  de  Luce.  All  three  still  bore  in  their  eyes 
the  weary  voluptuousness  of  the  last  waltz. 

"Addie,"  said  the  resident,  "you're  an  intimate 
friend  of  the  regent's.    Just  see  if  he  knows  you," 

The  young  man  spoke  to  the  tipsy  madman,  in  soft 
Javanese  accents.  At  first  the  regent  kept  on  with  his 
words  of  objurgation,  with  his  gigantic,  raving 
gestures;  then,  however,  the  softness  of  the  language 
seemed  to  hold  a  well-known  memory  for  him.  He 
gave  Addie  a  long  look.     His  gestures  subsided,  his 


146  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

drunken  glory  evaporated.  It  was  as  though  his  blood 
suddenly  understood  that  young  man's  blood,  as 
though  their  souls  recognized  each  other.  The  regent 
nodded  dolefully  and  began  a  long  lament,  with  his 
arms  raised  on  high.  Addie  tried  to  help  him  into  a 
carriage,  but  the  regent  resisted  and  refused.  Then 
Addie  took  his  arm  in  his  own  with  gentle  force  and 
walked  on  with  him  slowly.  The  regent,  still  lament- 
ing, with  tragic  gestures  of  despair,  suffered  himself  to 
be  led.  The  patih  followed  with  one  or  two  underlings, 
who  had  run  after  the  regent  out  of  the  Kabupaten, 
helplessly.  The  procession  vanished  in  the  darkness. 
Leonie,  wearily  smiling,  stepped  into  the  assistant- 
resident's  carriage.  She  remembered  the  gambling- 
quarrel  at  Patjaram ;  she  took  pleasure  in  observing  the 
gradual  deterioration  which  was  occurring  so  visibly, 
this  visible  degradation  by  a  passion  controlled  by 
neither  tact  nor  moderation.  And,  where  she  was  con- 
cerned, she  felt  stronger  than  ever,  because  she  enjoyed 
her  passions  and  controlled  them  and  made  them  the 
slaves  of  her  enjoyment.  .  .  .  She  despised  the  re- 
gent and  it  gave  her  a  romantic  satisfaction,  an  artistic 
pleasure,  to  watch  the  successive  phases  of  that  deterio- 
ration. In  the  carriage  she  glanced  at  her  husband,  who 
sat  in  gloomy  silence.  And  his  gloom  delighted  her,  be- 
cause she  thought  him  sentimental,  with  his  champion- 
ing of  the  Javanese  nobility,  the  result  of  a  sentimental 
instruction,  which  Van  Oudijck  took  even  more  senti- 
mentally. And  she  delighted  in  his  sorrow.  And  from 
her  husband  she  glanced  at  Doddie.  detecting  In  the 
dance-weary  eyes  of  her  step-daughter  a  jealousy  due 
to  that  last,  that  very  last  waltz  of  Leonie's  with  Addie. 
And  she  rejoiced  In  that  jealousy.     She  felt  happy. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  147 

because  sorrow  had  no  hold  upon  her,  any  more  than 
passion.  She  played  with  the  things  of  life  and  they 
glided  off  her  and  left  her  as  unperturbed  and  calmly 
smiling  and  unwrinkled  and  creamy  white  as  before. 

Van  Oudijck  did  not  go  to  bed.  With  his  head 
aflame,  with  a  fury  of  mortification  in  his  heart,  he  at 
once  took  a  bath,  dressed  himself  in  pyjamas,  and  had 
coffee  served  on  the  verandah  outside  his  room.  It  was 
six  o'clock ;  the  air  was  steeped  in  a  delightful  coolness 
of  morning  freshness.  But  he  suffered  from  so  fierce 
an  anger  that  his  temples  throbbed  as  though  with  con- 
gestion, his  heart  thumped  in  his  chest,  his  every  nerve 
quivered.  The  scene  of  that  night  and  morning  was 
still  flickering  before  his  eyes,  ticking  on  like  a 
cinematograph,  with  whirling  changes  of  posture. 
What  angered  him  above  all  was  the  impossibility  of  it 
all,  the  illogicality,  the  unthinkableness  of  it.  That  a 
Javanese  of  high  birth,  forgetful  of  all  the  noble  tradi- 
tions in  his  blood,  should  have  been  able  to  behave  as 
the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa  had  behaved  that  night  would 
never  have  seemed  to  him  possible.  He  would  never 
have  believed  it,  if  he  had  not  seen  it  with  his  own  eyes. 
To  this  man  of  predetermined  logic  the  fact  was  simply 
monstrous,  like  a  nightmare.  Extremely  susceptible  to 
surprise,  which  he  did  not  consider,  logical,  he  was 
angry  with  reality.  He  wondered  whether  he  had  not 
been  dreaming,  whether  he  himself  had  not  been  drunk. 
That  the  scandal  should  have  occurred  made  him 
furious.  But  as  it  was  so,  well,  he  would  recommend 
the  regent  for  dismissal.    There  was  no  alternative. 

He  dressed,  spoke  to  Vermalen  and  went  to  the 
Kabupaten  with  him.  They  both  forced  their  way  in  to 
the  regent,  notwithstanding  the  hesitation  of  the  re- 


148  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

tainers,  notwithstanding  the  breach  of  etiquette.  They 
did  not  see  the  wife,  the  Raden-Aju.  But  they  found 
the  regent  in  his  bedroom.  He  was  lying  on  his  bed, 
with  his  eyes  open,  recovering  gloomily,  not  yet  suffici- 
ently restored  to  life  fully  to  realize  the  strangeness  of 
this  visit,  of  the  presence  of  the  resident  and  assistant- 
resident  by  his  bedside.  He  recognized  them  neverthe- 
less, but  did  not  speak.  While  the  two  of  them  tried  to 
bring  home  to  him  the  gross  impropriety  of  his  be- 
haviour, he  stared  shamelessly  in  their  faces  and  per- 
sisted in  his  silence.  It  was  all  so  strange  that  the  two 
officials  looked  at  each  other  and  exchanged  glances  to 
ask  whether  the  regent  was  not  mad,  whether  he  was 
really  responsible.  He  had  not  spoken  a  single  word, 
he  continued  to  be  silent.  Though  Van  Oudijck  threat- 
ened him  with  dismissal,  he  remained  dumb,  staring 
with  shameless  eyes  into  the  resident's  eyes.  He  did 
not  open  his  lips,  he  maintained  the  attitude  of  a  deaf- 
mute.  At  the  most,  an  ironical  smile  formed  about  his 
lips.  The  officials,  really  thinking  that  the  regent  was 
mad,  shrugged  their  shoulders  and  left  the  room. 

In  the  gallery  they  met  the  Raden-Aju,  a  short, 
downtrodden  little  woman,  like  a  whipped  dog,  a 
beaten  slave.  She  approached,  weeping;  she  begged, 
she  implored  for  forgiveness.  Van  Oudijck  told  her 
that  the  regent  refused  to  speak,  for  all  his  threats,  that 
he  was  silent  with  an  inexplicable  but  obviously  de- 
liberate silence.  Then  the  Raden-Aju  whispered  that 
the  regent  had  consulted  a  diikim,'^  vjho  had  given  him 
a  djimat-  and  assured  him  that,  if  he  only  persisted  in 
maintaining  complete  silence,  his  enemies  would  obtain 

^  Native  phj'sician. 
^  Talisman. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  149 

no  hold  upon  him.  Terrified,  she  implored  for  help,  for 
forgiveness,  gathering  her  children  round  her  as  she 
spoke.  After  sending  for  the  patiJi  and  enjoining  him 
to  keep  a  strict  watch  on  the  regent,  the  two  officials 
went  away. 

Often  though  Van  Oudijck  had  encountered  the 
superstition  of  the  Javanese,  it  always  enraged  him,  as 
opposed  to  what  he  called  the  laws  of  nature  and  life. 
Yes,  nothing  but  his  superstition  could  induce  a  Java- 
nese to  depart  from  the  correct  path  of  his  innate 
courtliness.  Whatever  they  might  now  wish  to  put 
before  him,  the  regent  would  remain  silent,  would 
persist  in  the  absolute  silence  prescribed  by  the  dukun. 
In  this  way  he  considered  himself  protected  against 
those  whom  he  regarded  as  his  enemies.  And  this  pre- 
conceived notion  of  hostility  in  one  whom  he  would  so 
gladly  have  regarded  as  his  younger  brother  and 
fellow-ruler  was  what  disturbed  Van  Oudijck  most  of 
all. 

He  returned  to  Labuwangi  with  Leonie  and  Doddie. 
Once  at  home,  he  felt  for  a  moment  the  pleasantness  of 
being  back  in  his  own  house,  an  enjoyment  of  domes- 
ticity that  always  soothed  him  greatly:  the  material 
pleasure  of  seeing  his  own  bed  again,  his  own  writing- 
table  and  chair,  of  drinking  his  own  coffee,  made  as  he 
was  accustomed  to  have  it.  These  minor  amenities  put 
him  in  a  good  humour  for  a  little  while,  but  he  at  once 
felt  all  his  bitterness  awaken  when  he  perceived,  under 
a  pile  of  letters  on  his  desk,  the  disguised  handwritings 
of  a  couple  of  furtive  correspondents.  Automatically 
he  opened  these  first  and  felt  sick  when  he  read 
Leonie's  name  coupled  with  that  of  Theo.  Nothing 
was  sacred  to  those  scoundrels:    They  concocted  the 


150  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

most  monstrous  calumnies,  the  most  unnatural  libels, 
the  most  loathsome  imputations,  down  to  that  of  what 
was  almost  incest.  All  the  filth  flung  at  his  wife  and 
son  only  set  them  higher  in  his  love,  girt  them  with  a 
greater  purity,  placed  them  on  an  inviolable  summit 
and  made  him  cherish  them  with  a  deeper  and  more 
fervent  affection.  But  his  bitterness,  once  stirred  up, 
brought  back  all  his  mortification.  Its  actual  cause  was 
that  he  had  to  propose  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa's  dis- 
missal and  did  not  enjoy  the  prospect.  But  this  one 
necessity  embittered  his  whole  being,  upset  his  nerves 
and  made  him  ill.  If  he  could  not  follow  the  path 
which  he  had  determined  upon,  if  life  strayed  from  the 
possibilities  which  he.  Van  Oudijck,  had  a  priori  fixed, 
this  reluctance,  this  rebellion  upset  his  nerves  and  made 
him  ill. 

He  had  once  and  for  all  resolved,  after  the  death  of 
the  old  Pangeran,  to  raise  up  the  declining  race  of  the 
Adiningrats,  alike  because  of  his  affectionate  memory 
of  that  excellent  Javanese  prince,  because  of  his 
instructions  as  resident  and  because  of  a  sense  of  lofty 
humanity  and  hidden  poetry  in  himself.  And  he  had 
never  been  able  to  do  so,  he  had  at  once  been  thwarted 
— tmconsciously,  by  force  of  circumstances — by  the  old 
Raden-Aju  Pangeran,  who  gambled  away  everything, 
who  was  ruining  herself  and  her  kin.  As  a  friend  he 
had  exhorted  her.  She  had  ever  been  accessible  to  his 
advice,  but  her  passion  had  proved  too  strong  for  her. 
Van  Oudijck  had  from  the  first,  even  before  the 
father's  death,  judged  her  son,  Sunario,  the  Regent  of 
Labuwangi,  unfitted  for  the  actual  position  of  regent. 
The  fellow  was  petty  and  insignificant,  insufferably 
proud  of  his  descent,  never  in  touch  with  the  actualities 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  151 

of  life,  devoid  of  any  talent  for  ruling  or  any  considera- 
tion for  his  inferiors,  a  great  fanatic,  always  occupied 
with  diikuns,  with  sacred  calculations,  pefangans, 
always  reticent  and  living  in  a  dream  of  obscure  mysti- 
cism and  blind  to  what  would  spell  welfare  and  justice 
for  his  Javanese  subjects.  And  the  population  adored 
him  nevertheless,  both  because  of  his  noble  birth  and 
because  he  was  reputed  to  possess  sanctity  and  a  far- 
reaching  power,  a  divine  magic.  Silently,  secretly,  the 
women  of  the  Kabupaten  sold  bottles  of  the  water  that 
had  flowed  over  his  body  in  the  bath,  as  a  healing 
remedy  for  various  diseases.  There  you  had  the  elder 
brother;  and  the  younger  had  quite  forgotten  him.  v;lf 
on  the  previous  night,  frenzied  by  cards  and  drink.  In 
these  two  sons  the  once  so  brilliant  race  was  tottering 
to  its  fall.  Their  children  were  young ;  a  few  cousins 
were  patihs  in  Labuwangi  and  the  adjoining  resi- 
dencies, but  their  veins  contained  not  a  drop  of  the 
noble  blood.  No,  Van  Oudijck  had  always  failed,  glad 
though  he  would  have  been  to  succeed.  The  very  men 
whose  interests  he  defended  were  opposing  his  efforts. 
Their  day  was  over.  But  why  this  must  be  so  he  could 
not  imderstand;  and  it  all  upset  him  and  embittered 
him. 

And  he  had  pictured  to  himself  a  very  different  path, 
a  beautiful  ascending  path,  even  as  he  saw  his  own  life 
before  him,  whereas  with  them  the  path  of  life  wound 
tortuously  downwards.  And  he  did  not  understand 
what  it  was  that  was  stronger  than  he,  when  he  put 
forth  his  will.  Had  it  not  always  happened  in  his  life 
and  his  career  that  the  things  for  which  he  had  fervent- 
ly wished  came  to  pass  with  the  logic  which  he  himself 
had  day  after  day  attributed  to  the  things  that  were 


152  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

about  to  take  place  ?  His  ambition  had  now  established 
the  logic  of  the  ascending  path,  for  his  ambition  had 
established  as  its  aim  the  revival  of  this  Javanese 
family.     .     .     . 

Would  he  fail  ?  To  fail  in  striving  for  an  aim  which 
he  had  set  himself  as  an  official:  he  would  never 
forgive  himself !  Hitherto  he  had  always  succeeded  in 
achieving  what  he  had  willed.  But  what  he  now 
wanted  to  achieve  was,  unknown  to  himself,  not  merely 
an  official  aim,  a  part  of  his  work.  What  he  now 
wanted  to  achieve  was  an  aim  the  idea  of  which 
sprang  from  his  humanity,  from  the  noblest  part  of 
himself.  What  he  now  wanted  to  achieve  was  an  ideal, 
the  ideal  of  the  European  in  the  east  and  of  the  Euro- 
pean who  sees  the  east  as  he  wishes  to  see  It  and  as  he 
could  but  see  it. 

And  that  there  were  forces  that  gathered  Into  one 
force,  which  threatened  him,  mocked  at  his  proposals, 
laughed  at  his  ideals,  and  was  all  the  stronger  through 
lying  more  deeply  hidden :  this  he  would  never  admit. 
It  was  not  in  him  to  acknowledge  them ;  and  even  the 
clearest  revelation  of  them  would  be  a  riddle  to  his  soul 
and  would  remain  a  myth.  < 


I 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Van  Oiidijck  had  been  to  the  government  building 
that  day.    Leonie  met  him  the  moment  he  returned. 

"The  Raden-Aju  Pangeran  is  here,"  she  said.  "She 
has  been  here  quite  an  hour,  Otto.  She  wishes  to  speak 
to  you  badly.    She  has  been  waiting  for  you." 

"Leonie,"  he  said,  "I  want  you  to  look  through  these 
letters.  I  often  get  libels  of  this  sort  and  I've  never 
mentioned  them  to  you.  But  perhaps  it's  better  that 
you  should  not  be  left  in  ignorance.  Perhaps  it's  better 
for  you  to  know.  But  please  don't  take  them  to  heart. 
I  needn't  assure  you  that  I  don't  for  one  moment 
believe  the  least  word  of  all  this  filth.  So  don't  get 
upset  about  it  and  give  me  back  the  letters  presently 
j'-ourself.  Don't  leave  them  lying  about  .  .  . 
And  send  the  Raden-Aju  Pangeran  to  my  ofiflce. 
•     »     • 

Leonie,  carrying  the  letters  in  her  hand,  went  to  the 
back-verandah  and  returned  with  the  princess,  a  dis- 
tinguished-looking, grey-haired  woman,  with  a  proud, 
royal  bearing  in  her  still  slender  figure.  Her  eyes  were 
a  sombre  black;  her  mouth,  which  was  widened  in 
outline  by  the  betel-nut  juice  and  which  grinned  with 
filed,  black,  lacquered  teeth,  was  like  a  grimacing  mask 
and  spoilt  the  proud  nobility  of  her  expression.  She 
wore  a  black  satin  kobaja  fastened  with  jewelled  but- 
tons. It  was  above  all  her  grey  hair  and  her  som1)re 
eyes  that  gave  her  a  peculiar  mixture  of  venerable 
dignity  and  smouldering  passion.  Tragedy  hung  over 
her  old  age.     She  herself  felt  that  fate  w^as  pressing 


154  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

tragically  upon  her  and  hers;  and  she  placed  her  only 
hope  in  the  far-reaching,  divinely-appointed  power  of 
her  first-born,  Sunario,  the  Regent  of  Labuwangi. 

While  the  old  princess  preceded  Van  Oudijck  into 
the  office  Leonie  examined  the  letters,  in  the  middle 
gallery.  They  were  lampoons  couched  in  foul 
language,  about  her  and  Addie  and  Theo.  Always 
wrapped  in  the  selfish  dream  of  her  own  life,  she  never 
troubled  greatly  about  what  people  thought  or  said, 
especially  as  she  knew  that  she  could  always  and  im- 
mediately win  every  one  again  with  her  personality, 
with  her  smile.  She  possessed  a  tranquil  charm  which 
was  irresistible.  She  herself  never  spoke  ill  of  others, 
out  of  indifference:  she  made  amiable  excuses  for 
everything  and  everybody ;  and  she  was  loved  .  .  . 
when  people  saw  her.  But  she  considered  these  dirty 
letters,  spat  out  from  some  dark  corner,  tiresome  and 
unpleasant,  even  though  Van  Oudijck  did  not  believe 
them.  Suppose  that,  one  day,  he  began  to  believe 
things  ?  She  must  be  prepared  for  it.  She  must  above 
all  retain  for  that  possible  day  her  most  charming 
tranquility,  all  her  invulnerability  and  Inviolability. 
Who  could  have  sent  the  letters?  Who  hated  her  so 
much,  who  could  be  interested  in  writing  like  this  to 
her  husband  ?  How  strange  that  the  thing  was  known ! 
.  .  .  Addie?  Theo?  How  did  they  know?  Was 
it  Oorip?  No,  not  Oorip.  .  .  .  But  who  then? 
And  was  everything  actually  known  ?  She  had  always 
thought  that  what  happened  in  the  secret  chambers 
would  never  be  known  on  the  housetops.  She  had  even 
believed — it  was  simple  of  her — that  the  men  never 
discussed  her  with  one  another,  that  they  discussed 
other  w^omen,  but  not  herself.     Her  mind  harboured 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  155 

such  simple  illusions,  despite  all  her  experience,  a 
simplicity  which  harmonized  with  the  half-perverse, 
half-childish  poetry  of  her  rose-hued  imagination. 
Could  she  then  not  always  keep  hidden  the  secrets  of 
her  mystery,  the  secrets  of  reality?  It  annoyed  her  for 
a  moment,  that  reality,  which  was  being  revealed  de- 
spite her  superficial  correctness.  .  .  .  Thoughts  and 
dreams  always  remained  secret.  It  was  the  real  actions 
that  were  so  troublesome.  For  an  instant  she  thought 
of  being  more  careful  in  future,  of  refraining.  But 
she  saw  before  her,  in  imagination,  Theo  and  Addie, 
her  fair  love  and  her  dark  love ;  and  she  felt  that  she 
was  too  weak  for  that.  She  knew  that  in  this  she 
could  not  conquer  her  passions,  though  she  controlled 
them.  Would  they  end  by  proving  her  destruction, 
notwithstanding  all  her  tactfulness?  But  she  laughed 
at  the  thought:  she  had  a  firm  faith  in  her  invulnera- 
bility.    Life  always  glided  off  her  shoulders. 

Still,  she  wanted  to  prepare  herself  for  what  might 
happen.  She  had  no  higher  ideal  in  life  than  to  be 
free  from  pain,  free  from  grief,  free  from  poverty  and 
to  make  her  passions  the  slaves  of  her  enjoyment,  so 
that  she  might  possess  this  enjoyment  as  long  as  pos- 
sible, lead  this  life  as  long  as  possible.  She  reflected 
what  she  should  say  and  do  if  Van  Oudijck  suddenly 
questioned  her,  suspicious  because  of  these  anonymous 
letters.  She  reflected  whether  she  had  better  break 
with  Theo.  Addie  was  enough  for  her.  And  she  lost 
herself  in  her  calculations,  as  in  the  vague  combina- 
tions of  a  play  about  to  be  enacted.  Then,  suddenly, 
she  heard  the  Raden-Aju  Pangeran's  voice  sounding 
loudly  in  the  oflice,  in  between  her  husband's  calmer 
accents.       She    listened,    inquisitively,     foreseeing    a 


156  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

tragedy,  and  was  quietly  relieved  that  this  tragedy  also 
was  gliding  away  from  her.  She  crept  into  Van 
Oudijck's  bedroom;  the  communicating-doors  were 
always  left  open  for  coolness  and  only  a  screen  sepa- 
rated the  bedroom  from  the  office.  She  peeped  past 
the  screen.  And  she  saw  the  old  princess  more  greatly 
excited  than  she  had  ever  seen  any  Javanese  woman. 
The  Raden-Aju  was  beseeching  Van  Oudijck  in 
Malay;  he  was  assuring  her  in  Dutch  that  what  she 
asked  was  impossible.  Leonie  listened  more  closely. 
And  she  now  heard  the  old  princess  imploring  the 
resident  to  show  mercy  to  her  second  son,  the  Regent 
of  Ngadjiwa.  She  entreated  Van  Oudijck  to  remem- 
ber her  husband,  the  Pangeran,  whom  he  had  loved 
as  a  father,  who  had  loved  him  as  a  son,  With  a  mutual 
affection  more  intense  than  that  of  an  "elder  and 
younger  brother;"  she  conjured  him  to  think  of  their 
famous  past,  of  the  glory  of  the  Adiningrats,  ever 
loyal  friends  of  the  Company,  its  allies  In  war,  its  most 
faithful  vassals  in  peace;  she  conjured  him  not  to 
decree  the  downfall  of  their  race,  on  which  a  doom 
had  descended  since  the  Pangeran's  death,  driving  it 
into  an  abyss  of  fatal  destruction.  She  stood  before 
the  resident  like  a  Niobe,  like  a  tragic  mother,  flinging 
up  her  arms  in  the  vehemence  of  her  protestations, 
while  tears  poured  from  her  sombre  eyes  and  only  the 
wide  mouth,  painted  with  brown  betel-juice,  was  like 
the  grimace  of  a  mask.  But  from  this  grimace  the 
fluent  phrases  of  protestation  and  conjuration  were 
pouring  forth;  and  she  wrung  her  hands  in  entreaty 
and  beat  her  breast  in  contrition. 

Van  Oudijck  answered  in  a  firm  but  gentle  voice, 
telling  her  that  certainly  he  had  loved  the  old  Pan- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  157 

geran  most  sincerely,  that  he  respected  the  old  race 
highly,  that  no  one  would  be  better  pleased  than  he 
to  upliold  their  lofty  position.  But  then  he  grew  more 
severe  and  asked  her  whom  the  Adiningrats  had  to 
blame  for  tlie  fate  that  was  now  pursuing  her.  And, 
with  his  eyes  looking  into  hers,  he  said  that  it  was  she ! 
She  fell  back,  flaring  up  with  rage;  but  he  repeated  it 
again  and  yet  again.  Her  sons  were  her  children: 
bigoted  and  proud  and  incurable  gamblers.  And  it 
was  gambling,  that  low  passion,  which  was  wrecking 
their  greatness.  Their  race  was  staggering  to  its  down- 
fall through  their  insatiable  greed  of  gain.  How  often 
did  it  not  happen  that  a  month  went  by  at  Ngadjiwa 
before  the  regent  paid  the  native  heads  their  salaries  ? 
She  protested  that  it  was  true:  It  was  at  her  instiga- 
tion that  her  son  had  taken  the  money  of  the  treasury, 
to  pay  gambling  debts.  But  she  also  swore  that  it 
would  never  happen  again.  And  where,  asked  Van 
Oudijck,  had  a  regent,  descended  from  an  ancient  race, 
ever  behaved  as  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa  had  at  the 
race-ball?  The  mother  lamented:  it  was  true,  it  was 
true:  fate  dogged  their  footsteps  and  had  clouded  her 
son's  mind ;  but  it  would  never,  never  happen  again. 
She  swore  by  the  soul  of  the  old  Pangeran  that  It 
would  never  happen  again,  that  her  son  would  win 
back  his  dignity.  But  Van  Oudijck  grew  more 
vehement  and  reproached  her  with  never  having  exer- 
cised a  good  influence  over  her  sons  and  nephews,  with 
being  the  evil  genius  of  her  family,  because  a  demon 
of  gambling  and  greed  had  her  fast  in  Its  claws.  She 
began  to  shriek  with  anguish,  she,  the  old  princess, 
who  looked  down  upon  the  resident,  the  Hollander 
without  birth  or  breeding,  shrieking  w^ith  anguish  be- 


158  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

cause  he  dared  to  speak  like  this  and  was  entitled  to  do 
so.  She  flung  out  her  arms,  she  begged  for  mercy; 
she  begged  him  not  to  urge  her  son's  dismissal  by  the 
government,  which  would  act  as  the  resident  suggested, 
which  would  follow  the  advice  of  such  a  highly  es- 
teemed official ;  she  begged  him  to  have  pity  and  show 
patience  a  little  longer.  She  would  speak  to  her  son ; 
Sunario  would  speak  to  his  brother ;  they  would  bring 
him  back  to  his  senses,  which  had  been  bewildered  by 
drink  and  play  and  women.  Oh,  if  the  resident  would 
only  have  pity,  if  he  would  only  relent!  But  Van 
Oudijck  remained  inexorable.  He  had  shown  patience 
for  so  long.  It  was  now  exhausted.  Since  her  son,  at 
the  instigation  of  the  dukim,  relying  on  his  djimat,  had 
resisted  him  with  his  insolent  silence,  which,  as  he 
firmly  believed,  made  him  invulnerable  to  his  enemies, 
he  would  prove  that  he,  the  spokesman  of  the  govern- 
ment, the  representative  of  the  queen,  was  the  stronger, 
dukim  and  djimat  notwithstanding.  There  was  no 
alternative:  his  patience  was  at  an  end ;  his  love  for 
the  Pangeran  did  not  allow  of  further  indulgence ;  his 
feeling  of  respect  for  their  race  was  not  such  that  he 
could  transfer  it  to  an  unworthy  son.  It  was  settled: 
the  regent  would  be  dismissed. 

The  princess  had  listened  to  him,  unable  to  credit 
his  words,  seeing  the  abyss  yawn  before  her.  And, 
with  a  yell  like  that  of  a  wounded  lioness,  with  a 
scream  of  pain,  she  pulled  the  jewelled  hairpins  from 
her  head,  till  her  long  grey  hair  fell  streaming  about 
her  face ;  with  a  rending  tug  she  tore  open  her  satin 
Izahaja;  beside  herself  with  anguish,  she  threw  herself 
before  the  feet  of  the  European,  took  firm  hold  of  his 
foot  with  her  two  hands,  planted  it,  with  a  movement 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  159 

which  made  Van  Oudijck  stagger,  on  her  bowed  neck 
and  cried  aloud  and  screamed  that  she,  the  daughter 
of  the  sultans  of  Madura,  would  for  ever  be  his  slave, 
that  she  swore  to  be  nothing  but  his  slave,  if  only  he 
would  have  mercy  on  her  son  this  time  and  not  plunge 
her  house  into  the  abyss  of  shame  which  she  saw 
yawning  around  her.  And  she  clutched  the  European's 
foot,  as  though  with  the  strength  of  despair,  and  held 
that  foot,  like  a  yoke  of  servitude,  with  the  sole  and 
heel  of  the  shoe  pressed  upon  her  flowing  grey  hair, 
upon  her  neck  bowed  to  the  floor.  V^an  Oudijck 
trembled  with  emotion.  He  realized  that  this  high- 
spirited  woman  would  never  humble  herself  like  that, 
with  evident  spontaneity,  to  the  lowest  depths  of 
humiliation  that  she  could  conceive,  would  not  resort 
to  the  most  vehement  utterance  of  actual  grief  that  a 
woman  could  ever  display,  with  her  hair  unbound  and 
the  ruler's  foot  planted  on  her  neck,  if  she  had  not 
been  shaken  to  the  very  depths  of  her  soul,  if  she  did 
not  feel  desperate  to  the  pitch  of  self-destruction.  And 
he  hesitated  for  a  moment.  But  only  for  a  moment. 
He  was  a  man  of  considered  principles,  of  fixed,  a 
priori  logic,  immovable  when  he  had  come  to  a  deci- 
sion, wholly  inaccessible  to  impulse.  With  the  utmost 
respect,  he  at  last  released  his  foot  from  the  princess' 
clinging  grasp.  Holding  out  both  hands  to  her,  with 
visible  compassion,  visible  emotion,  he  raised  her  from 
the  floor.  He  made  her  sit  down ;  and  she  fell  into  a 
chair,  broken,  sobbing  aloud.  For  a  moment,  per- 
ceiving his  gentleness,  she  thought  that  she  had  won. 
But  when  he  calmly  but  decidedly  shook  his  head  in 
denial,  she  understood  that  it  was  over.  She  panted 
for  breath,  half -swooning,  her  kahaja  still  open,  her 
hair  still  unbound. 


160  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

At  that  moment  Leonie  entered  the  room.  She  had 
seen  the  drama  enacted  before  her  eyes  and  feh  a 
thrill  of  artistic  emotion.  She  experienced  something 
like  compassion  in  her  barren  soul.  She  approached 
the  princess  who  fiung  herself  into  her  arms,  woman 
seeking  woman  in  the  unreasoning  despair  of  that 
inevitable  doom.  And  Leonie,  turning  her  beautiful 
eyes  on  Van  Oudijck,  murmured  a  single  word  of 
intercession  and  whispered: 

"Give  in!     Give  in!" 

And  for  the  second  time  Van  Oudijck  wavered. 
Never  had  he  refused  his  wife  anything,  however 
costly,  for  which  she  asked.  But  this  meant  the  sacri- 
fice of  his  principle  never  to  reconsider  a  decision, 
always  to  persist  in  what  he  had  resolved  should  hap- 
pen. Then  had  he  always  controlled  the  future.  Thus 
things  always  happened  as  he  willed.  Then  had  he 
never  shown  any  weakness.  And  he  answered  that  it 
was  impossible. 

In  his  obstinacy,  he  did  not  divine  the  sacred  mo- 
ments in  which  a  man  must  not  insist  upon  his  own 
will,  but  must  piously  surrender  to  the  pressure  of  the 
hidden  forces.  These  moments  he  did  not  respect, 
acknowledge  or  recognize ;  no,  never.  He  was  a  man 
with  a  clear,  logically  deduced,  simple,  masculine  sense 
of  duty,  a  man  of  a  plain,  simple  life.  He  would  never 
know  that,  lurking  under  the  simple  life,  are  all  those 
forces  which  together  make  the  omnipotent  hidden 
force.  He  would  have  laughed  at  the  idea  that  there 
are  nations  which  have  a  greater  control  over  that  force 
than  the  western  nations  have.  He  would  shrug  his 
shoulders — and  continue  his  own  road — at  the  mere 
supposition  that  among  the  nations  there  are  a  few 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  161 

individuals  in  whose  hands  that  force  loses  its  omnipo- 
tence and  becomes  an  instrument.  No  experience 
would  teach  him.  He  would  perhaps  for  an  instant 
be  nonplussed.  But  immediately  afterwards  he  would 
grasp  the  chain  of  his  logic  in  his  virile  hand  and  link 
up  the  iron  actualities  together.     .     .     . 

He  saw  Leonie  lead  the  old  princess  from  his  office, 
bowed  and  sobbing. 

A  deep  emotion,  an  utterly  agitating  compassion, 
brought  the  tears  to  his  eyes.  And  before  those  tearful 
eyes  rose  the  vision  of  that  Javanese  whom  he  loved 
like  a  father. 

But  he  did  not  give  in. 


CHAPTER  XX 

Reports  arrived  from  Ternate  and  Halmaheira  that 
a  terrible  submarine  earthquake  had  visited  the  sur- 
rounding group  of  islands,  that  whole  villages  had  been 
washed  away,  that  thousands  of  inhabitants  had  been 
rendered  homeless.  The  telegrams  caused  greater  con- 
sternation in  Holland  than  in  India,  where  people 
seemed  more  used  to  the  convulsions  of  the  sea,  to  the 
volcanic  upheavals  of  the  earth.  They  had  been  dis- 
cussing the  Dreyfus  case  for  months,  they  were  begin- 
ning to  discuss  the  Transvaal,  but  Ternate  was  hardly 
mentioned.  Nevertheless  a  central  committee  was 
formed  at  Batavia ;  and  Van  Oudijck  called  a  meeting. 
It  was  resolved  to  hold  a  charity-bazaar,  at  the  earliest 
possible  date,  in  the  club  and  the  garden  attached  to 
it.  Mrs.  van  Oudijck,  as  usual,  delegated  everything 
to  Eva  Eldersma  and  did  not  trouble  herself  at  all. 

For  a  fortnight  Labuwangi  was  filled  with  excite- 
ment. In  this  silent  little  town,  full  of  eastern  slumber, 
a  whirlwind  of  tiny  passions,  jealousies  and  enmities 
began  to  rise.  Eva  had  her  club  of  faithful  adherents, 
the  Van  Helderens.  the  Doom  de  Bruijns,  the  Rant- 
zows,  with  which  all  sorts  of  tiny  sets  strove  to  com- 
pete. One  was  not  on  speaking  terms  with  the  other ; 
this  one  would  not  take  part  because  that  one  did; 
another  insisted  on  taking  part  only  because  Mrs. 
Eldersma  must  not  think  that  she  was  everybody ;  and 
this  one  and  that  one  and  the  other  considered  that 
Eva  was  much  too  pretentious  and  need  not  fancy 
that  she  v/as  the  most  important  woman  in  the  place 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  163 

because  Mrs.  van  Oudijck  left  everything  to  her.  Eva 
however  had  spoken  to  the  resident  and  declared  that 
she  was  wilHng  to  organize  everything  provided  she 
received  unhmited  authority.  She  had  not  the  sHghtest 
objection  to  his  appointing  some  one  else  to  set  the 
ball  rolling;  but,  if  he  appointed  her,  unlimited 
authority  was  an  express  condition,  for  to  take  twenty 
different  tastes  and  opinions  into  account  would  mean 
that  one  would  never  get  anywhere.  Van  Oudijck 
laughingly  consented,  but  impressed  upon  her  that 
she  must  not  make  people  angry  and  that  she  must 
respect  every  one's  feelings  and  be  as  conciliatory  as 
possible,  so  that  the  charity-bazaar  might  leave  pleasant 
memories  behind  it.  Eva  promised:  she  was  not 
naturally  quarrelsome. 

To  get  a  thing  done,  to  set  a  thing  going,  to  put  a 
thing  through,  to  employ  her  artistic  energies  was  her 
great  delight:  it  was  life  to  her,  was  the  only  consola- 
tion in  her  dreary  life  in  India.  For,  though  she  had 
grown  to  love  and  admire  many  things  In  Java,  the 
social  life  of  the  country,  save  for  her  little  clique, 
lacked  all  charm  for  her.  But  now  to  prepare  an  enter- 
tainment on  a  large  scale,  the  fame  of  which  would 
reach  as  far  as  Surabaya,  flattered  alike  her  vanity  and 
her  love  of  work. 

She  sailed  through  every  difficulty;  and,  because 
people  saw  that  she  knew  best  and  was  more  practical 
than  they,  they  gave  way  to  her.  But,  while  she  was 
busv  evolving:  her  fancv-booths  and  tahleaux-vivants 
and  while  the  bustle  of  the  preparations  occupied  the 
leading  families  of  LabuwangI,  something  seemed  also 
to  occupy  the  soul  of  the  native  population,  but  some- 
thing less  cheerful  than  charitable  entertainment.    The 


164  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

chief  of  police,  who  brought  Van  Oudijck  his  short  re- 
port every  morning,  usually  in  a  few  words — that  he 
had  gone  his  rounds  and  that  everything  was  quiet  and 
orderly — ^had  had  longer  conversations  with  the  resi- 
dent of  late,  seemed  to  have  more  important  things  to 
communicate;  the  oppasscrs  whispered  more  mysteri- 
ously outside  the  office ;  the  resident  sent  for  Eldersma 
and  Van  Helderen;  the  secretary  wrote  to  Ngadjiwa, 
to  Vermalen  the  assistant-resident,  to  the  major-com- 
mandant of   the   garrison;   and   the  controlcw-kotta 
w^ent  round  the  town  with  increased  frequency  and  at 
unaccustomed  hours.    Amid  all  their  fussing  the  ladies 
perceived  little  of  these  mysterious  doings;  and  only 
Leonie,  who  took  no  part  in  the  preparations,  noticed 
in  her  husband  an  unusual  silent  concern.     She  was  a 
quick  and  keen  observer;  and,  because  Van  Oudijck, 
who  was  accustomed  often  to  mention  business  in  the 
domestic  circle,  had  been  mute  for  the  last  few  days, 
she  asked  suddenly  where  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa 
was,  now  that  he  had  been  dismissed  by  the  govern- 
ment at  Van  Oudijck's  instance,  and  who  was  going  to 
replace  him.     He  made  a  vague  reply;  and  she  took 
alarm  and  became  anxious.     One  morning,   passing 
through  her  husband's  bedroom,  she  was  struck  by  the 
whispered  conversation  between  Van  Oudijck  and  the 
chief  of  police  and  she  stopped  to  listen,  with  her  ear 
against  the  screen.    The  conversation  was  muffled  be- 
cause the  garden-doors  were  open ;  the  oppassers  were 
sitting  on  the  garden-steps;  a  couple  of  gentlemen  who 
wished  to  speak  to  the  resident  were  walking  up  and 
down  the  side-verandah,  after  writing  their  names  on 
the  slate  which  the  chief  oppasscr  brought  in  to  the 
resident.     But  they  had  to  wait,  because  the  resident 
was  engaged  with  the  chief  of  police. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  165 

Leonie  listened,  behind  the  screen.  And  she  turned 
pale  at  the  sound  of  a  word  or  two  which  she  over- 
heard. She  returned  silently  to  her  room,  feeling 
anxious.  At  lunch  she  asked  if  It  would  be  really 
necessary  for  her  to  attend  the  fancy-fair,  for  she  had 
had  such  a  toothache  lately  and  she  wanted  to  go  to 
Surabaya,  to  the  dentist.  It  would  probably  mean  a 
few  days:  she  had  not  been  to  the  dentist  for  ever  so 
long.  But  Van  Oudijck,  sterner  than  usual,  in  his 
sombre  mood  of  secret  concern  and  silence,  told  her 
that  it  was  impossible,  that  on  an  evening  like  that  of 
the  fancy-fair  she  was  bound  to  be  present  as  the  resi- 
dent's wife.  She  pouted  and  sulked  and  held  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  mouth,  so  that  Van  Oudijck  became 
distressed.  That  afternoon  she  did  not  sleep,  did  not 
read,  did  not  dream,  as  a  result  of  this  unusual  agita- 
tion. She  was  frightened,  she  wanted  to  get  away. 
And  at  tea,  in  the  garden,  she  began  to  cry,  said  that 
the  toothache  was  making  her  head  ache,  that  it  was 
making  her  cjuite  ill,  that  it  was  more  than  she  could 
bear.  Van  Oudijck,  distressed  and  careworn,  was 
touched ;  he  could  never  endure  to  see  her  tears.  And 
he  gave  in,  as  he  alv/ays  did  to  her,  where  her  personal 
affairs  were  in  question.  Next  day  she  went  off  to 
Surabaya,  staying  at  the  resident's  and  really  having 
her  teeth  attended  to. 

It  was  always  a  good  thing  to  do,  once  a  year  or  so. 
This  time  she  spent  about  five  hundred  guilders^  on  the 
dentist.  After  this,  incidentally,  the  other  ladies  also 
seemed  to  giiess  something  of  what  was  happening  at 
Labuwangi  behind  a  haze  of  mystery.  For  Ida  van 
Helderen,  the  tragic  white  norma,  her  eyes  starting  out 

*  Over  £40. 


166  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

of  her  head  with  fright,  told  Eva  Eldersma  that  her 
husband  and  Eldersma  and  the  resident  too  were  fear- 
ing a  rebellion  of  the  population,  incited  by  the  regent 
and  his  family,  who  would  never  forgive  the  dismissal 
of  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa.  The  men,  however,  were 
noncommittal  and  reassured  their  wives.  But  a  dark 
swirling  tide  continued  to  stir  under  the  apparent  calm- 
ness of  their  little  up-country  life.  And  gradually  the 
gossip  leaked  out  and  alarmed  the  European  inhabi- 
tants. Vague  paragraphs  in  the  newspapers,  com- 
menting on  the  dismissal  of  the  regent,  contributed 
to  their  alarm. 

Meanwhile  the  bustle  of  preparation  for  the  fancy- 
fair  went  on,  but  people  no  longer  put  their  hearts  into 
the  work.  They  led  a  fussy,  restless  life  and  were 
l:>ecoming  ill  and  nervous.  At  night  they  bolted  and 
barred  their  houses,  placed  arms  by  their  bed-sides, 
woke  suddenly  in  terror,  listening  to  the  noises  of  the 
night,  which  sounded  faintly  in  space  outside.  And 
they  condemned  the  hastiness  shown  by  Van  Oudijck, 
who,  after  the  scene  at  the  race-ball,  had  been  unable 
to  restrain  his  patience  any  longer  and  had  not  hesi- 
tated to  recommend  the  dismissal  of  the  regent,  whose 
house  was  firmly  rooted  in  the  soil  of  Labuwangi,  was 
one  with  Labuwangi. 

The  resident  had  ordered,  as  a  festival  for  the  popu- 
lation, a  passer-malani^  on  the  aloon-aloon^,  to  last 
for  a  few  days,  coinciding  with  the  bazaar.  There 
would  be  a  people's  fair,  numbers  of  little  stalls  and 
booths  and  the  Komedie-Stamhoiil,^  with  plays  drawn 

*  Evening  market. 

^  Square  in  front  of  the  regent's  palace. 

^  Malay  theatre. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  167 

from  tlie  Arabian  Nights.  He  had  done  this  in  order 
to  give  the  Javanese  inhabitants  a  treat  which  they 
would  vakie  greatly,  while  the  Europeans  were  enjoy- 
ing themselves  on  their  side.  It  was  now  a  few  days 
before  the  fancy-fair,  on  the  previous  day  to  which,  as 
it  chanced,  the  kumpitlan^  was  to  be  held  in  the 
Kabupaten. 

The  anxiety,  the  fuss  and  a  general  nervousness 
filled  the  otherwise  quiet  little  town  with  an  emotion 
which  made  people  almost  ill.  Mothers  sent  their  chil- 
dren away  and  themselves  were  undecided  what  to  do. 
But  the  fancy-fair  made  people  stay.  How  could  they 
avoid  going  to  the  fancy- fair?  There  was  so  seldom 
any  amusement.  But  .  .  .  if  there  really  were  a 
rising  I  And  they  did  not  know  what  to  do,  whether  to 
take  the  cloudy  menace,  which  they  half-divined,  seri- 
ously or  make  a  light-hearted  jest  of  it. 

The  day  before  the  kumpidan  Van  Oudijck  asked 
for  an  interview  with  the  Raden-Aju  Pangeran,  who 
lived  with  her  son.  His  carriage  drove  past  the  huts 
and  booths  in  the  aloon-aloon  and  through  the 
triumphal  arches  of  the  passer-inalam,  formed  of 
bamboo-stems  bending  towards  each  other,  with  a  nar- 
row strip  of  bunting  rippling  in  the  wind,  so  much  so 
that,  in  Javanese,  the  decorations  are  known  as  "rlp- 
plings."  This  evening  was  to  be  the  first  evening  of 
the  fair.  Every  one  was  busy  with  the  final  prepara- 
tions ;  and,  in  the  bustle  of  hammering  and  arranging, 
the  natives  sometimes  neglected  to  cower  at  the  passing 
of  the  resident's  carriage  and  paid  no  attention  to  the 
golden  pajong  which  the  oppasser  on  the  box  held  in 
his  hands  like  a  furled  sun.     But,  when  the  carriage 

^  Monthly  council. 


168  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

turned  by  the  flagstaff  and  up  the  drive  leading  to  the 
Kabupaten  and  they  saw  that  the  resident  was  going  to 
the  regent's,  groups  huddled  together  and  spoke  in 
eager  whispers.  They  crowded  at  the  entrance  to  the 
drive  and  stared.  But  the  natives  saw  nothing  save 
the  empty  pcndoppo^  looming  beyond  the  shadow  of 
the  v/aringins,  with  the  rows  of  chairs  in  readiness. 
The  chief  of  police,  suddenly  passing  on  his  bicycle, 
caused  the  groups  to  break  up  as  though  by  instinct. 

The  old  princess  was  awaiting  the  resident  in  the 
front-verandah.  Her  dignified  features  wore  a  serene 
expression  and  betrayed  no  trace  of  all  that  was  raging 
within  her.  She  motioned  the  resident  to  a  chair ;  and 
the  conversation  opened  with  a  few  ordinary  phrases. 
Then  four  servants  approached  in  a  crouching  posture: 
one  with  a  bottle-stand ;  the  second  with  a  tray  full  of 
glasses;  the  third  with  a  silver  ice-pail  full  of  broken 
ice;  the  fourth,  salaamed,  without  carr}^ing  anything. 
The  princess  asked  the  resident  what  he  would  drink ; 
and  he  replied  that  he  would  like  a  whisky-and-soda. 
The  fourth  servant  came  crouching  through  the  other 
three  to  prepare  the  drink,  poured  in  the  measure  of 
whisky,  opened  the  bottle  of  ajer-planda-  with  a  report 
as  of  a  gun  and  dropped  into  the  tumbler  a  lump  of  ice 
the  size  of  a  small  glacier.  Not  another  word  was  said. 
The  resident  waited  for  the  drink  to  grow  cold;  and 
the  four  servants  crouched  away.  Then  at  last  Van 
Oudijck  spoke  and  asked  if  he  might  speak  to  her  in 
entire  confidence.  If  he  could  say  what  he  had  in  his 
mind.  She  begged  him,  civilly,  to  do  so.  And  in  his 
firm  but  hushed  voice  he  told  her,  in  Malay,  in  very 

^  Roofed  quadrangular  space  for  meetings  and  entertainments. 

^  Soda-water. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  169 

courteous  sentences,  full  of  friendliness  and  flowery 
politeness,  how  great  and  exalted  his  love  had  been 
for  the  Pangeran  and  still  was  for  that  prince's  glori- 
ous house,  although  he,  Van  Oudijck,  to  his  intense 
regret,  had  been  obliged  to  act  counter  to  that  love, 
because  his  duty  commanded  him  so  to  act.  And  he 
asked  her — presuming  that  it  was  possible  for  her, 
as  a  mother — to  bear  him  no  grudge  for  this  exercise 
of  his  duty:  he  asked  her,  on  the  contrary,  to  show  a 
motherly  feeling  for  him,  the  European  official,  who 
had  loved  the  Pangeran  as  a  father,  and  to  cooperate 
with  him,  the  ofllicial, — she,  the  mother  of  the  regent — 
by  employing  her  great  influence  for  the  happiness  and 
w^elfare  of  the  population.  Sunario  had  a  tendency, 
in  his  piety  and  his  remote  gaze  at  things  invisible,  to 
forget  the  actual  realities  that  lay  before  his  eyes. 
Well,  he,  the  resident,  was  asking  her,  the  powerful, 
Influential  mother,  to  cooperate  with  him  in  ways 
which  Sunario  overlooked,  to  cooperate  with  him  in 
love  and  unity.  And,  in  his  elegant  Malay,  he  opened 
his  heart  to  her  entirely,  describing  the  turmoil  which 
for  days  and  days  had  been  seething  among  the  in- 
habitants, like  an  evil  poison  which  could  not  do  other 
than  make  them  wicked  and  drunk  and  would  probably 
lead  to  things,  to  acts,  which  were  bound  to  have 
lamentable  results.  He  made  her  feel  his  unspoken 
view  that  the  government  would  be  the  stronger,  that 
a  terrible  punishment  would  overtake  all  who  should 
prove  guilty,  high  and  low  alike.  But  his  language 
remained  exceedingly  cautious  and  his  speech  respect- 
ful, as  of  a  son  addressing  a  mother.  She,  though  she 
understood  him,  valued  the  tactful  grace  of  his  man- 
ner;  and  the  flowery  depth   and  earnestness  of  his 


170  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

language  made  him  rise  in  her  esteem  and  almost  sur- 
prised her  ...  in  a  low  Hollander,  without  birth 
or  breeding. 

But  he  continued.  He  did  not  tell  her  what  he 
knew,  that  she  was  the  instigatress  of  this  obscure 
unrest;  but  he  excused  that  unrest,  said  that  he  un- 
derstood it,  that  the  population  shared  her  grief  in 
respect  of  her  unworthy  son,  himself  a  scion  of  the 
noble  race,  and  that  it  was  only  natural  that  the  people 
should  sympathize  deeply  with  their  old  sovereign, 
even  though  the  sympathy  was  ignorant  and  illogical. 
For  the  son  zvas  unworthy,  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa 
had  proved  himself  unworthy  and  what  had  happened 
could  not  have  happened  otherwise. 

His  voice,  for  a  moment,  became  severe;  and  she 
bowed  her  grey  head,  remained  silent,  seemed  to  agree. 
But  his  words  now  became  gentler  again;  and  once 
more  he  asked  for  her  cooperation,  asked  her  to  use 
her  influence  for  the  best.  He  trusted  her  entirely. 
He  knew  that  she  held  high  the  traditions  of  her 
family,  loyalty  to  the  Company,  unimpeachable  loyalty 
to  the  government.  Well,  he  asked  her  to  direct  her 
power  and  influence,  to  use  the  love  and  reverence 
which  the  people  bore  her  in  such  a  way  that  she,  in 
concert  with  him,  would  allay  what  was  seething  in 
the  darkness ;  that  she  would  move  the  thoughtless  to 
reflection;  that  she  would  assuage  and  pacify  what 
was  secretly  threatening,  thoughtlessly  and  frivolously, 
against  the  firm  and  dignified  authority  of  the  govern- 
ment. And,  while  he  flattered  and  threatened  her  in 
one  breath,  he  felt  that  she— although  she  hardly  spoke 
a  single  word  and  merely  punctuated  his  words  with 
her  repeated  saja—he  felt  that  she  was  falling  under 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  171 

his  stronger  influence,  the  influence  of  the  man  of 
tact  and  authority,  and  tliat  he  was  giving  her  food 
for  reflection.  He  f eU  that,  as  she  reflected,  her  hatred 
was  subsiding,  her  vindictiveness  losing  its  force  and 
that  he  was  breaking  the  energy  and  the  pride  of  the 
ancient  blood  of  the  ]\Iaduran  sultans.  Under  all  the 
flowers  of  his  speech,  he  allowed  her  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  utter  ruin,  of  terrible  penalties,  of  the  undeniably 
greater  power  of  the  government.  And  he  bent  her 
to  the  old  pliant  attitude  of  yielding  before  the  might 
of  the  ruler.  He  reminded  her,  in  her  impulse  to  rebel 
and  throw  off  the  hated  yoke,  that  it  was  better  to  be 
calm  and  reasonable  and  to  adapt  herself  placidly  to 
things  as  they  were.  She  nodded  her  head  softly  in 
assent;  and  he  felt  that  he  had  conquered  her.  And 
this  aroused  a  certain  pride  within  him. 

And  now  she  also  spoke  and  gave  the  required 
promise,  saying  in  her  broken,  inwardly  weeping  voice, 
that  she  loved  him  as  a  son,  that  she  would  do  what 
he  wished  and  would  assuredly  use  her  influence,  out- 
side the  Kabupaten,  in  the  town,  to  still  these  menac- 
ing troubles.  She  denied  her  own  complicity  and  said 
that  the  imrest  arose  from  the  unreflecting  love  of  the 
people,  who  suffered  with  her,  because  of  her  son. 
She  now  echoed  his  own  words,  save  that  she  did  not 
speak  of  imworthiness.  For  she  was  a  mother.  And 
she  repeated  once  again  that  he  could  trust  her,  that 
she  would  act  according  to  his  wish.  Then  he  in- 
formed her  that  he  would  come  to  the  himpulan  next 
dav,  with  his  subordinates  and  with  the  native  head- 
men;  and  he  said  that  he  trusted  her  so  completely 
that  all  of  them,  the  Europeans,  would  be  unarmed. 
He  looked  her  in  the  eyes.     He  threatened  her  more 


172  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

by  saying  this  than  if  he  had  spoken  of  arms.  For  he 
was  threatening  her — without  a  threatening  word, 
merely  by  tlie  intonation  of  his  Malay  speech— ^with 
the  punishment,  with  the  vengeance  of  the  govern- 
ment, if  a  hair  was  injured  of  the  least  of  its  officials. 

He  had  risen  from  his  seat.  She  also  rose,  wrung 
her  hands,  entreated  him  not  to  speak  like  that,  en- 
treated him  to  have  the  fullest  confidence  in  her  and  in 
her  son.  She  sent  for  Sunario.  The  Regent  of 
Labuwangi  entered ;  and  Van  Oudijck  again  repeated 
that  he  hoped  for  peace  and  reason.  And  he  felt,  by 
the  tone  of  the  old  princess  in  speaking  to  her  son,  that 
she  wished  for  peace  and  reason.  He  felt  that  she,  the 
mother,  was  omnipotent  in  the  Kabupaten. 

The  regent  bowed  his  head,  agreed,  promised,  even 
said  that  he  had  already  taken  pacifying  measures, 
that  he  had  always  regretted  this  excitement  of  the 
populace,  that  it  grieved  him  greatly,  now  that  the  resi- 
dent had  noticed  it,  in  spite  of  his,  Sunario's,  attempts 
at  pacification.  The  resident  did  not  go  further  into 
this  insincerity.  He  knew  that  the  discontent  was 
fanned  from  the  Kabupaten,  but  he  knew  also  that  he 
had  won.  Once  more,  however,  he  im.pressed  upon 
the  regent  his  responsibility,  if  anything  happened  In 
the  pendoppo,  next  day,  during  the  kimipulan.  The 
regent  entreated  him  not  to  think  of  such  a  thing.  And 
now,  to  part  on  friendly  terms,  he  begged  Van 
Oudijck  to  sit  down  again.  Van  Oudijck  resumed  his 
seat.  In  so  doing,  he  knocked  as  though  by  accident 
against  the  tumbler,  all  frosted  with  the  chill  of  the 
ice,  which  he  had  not  yet  put  to  his  lips.  It  fell  clat- 
tering to  the  ground.  He  apologized  for  his  clumsi- 
ness.    The  Raden-Aju  Pangeran  had  remarked  his 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  173 

movement  and  her  old  face  turned  pale.  She  said 
nothing,  but  beckoned  to  an  attendant.  And  the  four 
servants  appeared  again,  crouching  along  the  floor, 
and  mixed  a  second  whisky-and-soda.  Van  Oudijck 
at  once  lifted  the  glass  to  his  lips. 

There  was  a  painful  silence.  To  what  degree  the 
resident's  movement  in  upsetting  the  glass  was  justified 
would  always  remain  a  problem.  He  would  never 
know.  But  he  wished  to  show  the  princess  that,  when 
coming  here,  he  was  prepared  for  anything,  before 
their  conversation,  and  that,  after  this  conversation,  he 
meant  to  trust  her  utterly  and  completely,  not  only  in 
respect  of  the  drink  which  she  offered  him,  but  next 
day,  at  the  kmnpulan,  where  he  and  his  officials  would 
appear  unarmed,  and  in  resi>ect  of  her  influence  for 
good,  which  would  bring  peace  and  tranquillity  to  the 
people.  And,  as  though  to  show  him  that  she  under- 
stood him  and  that  his  confidence  would  be  wholly 
justified,  she  stood  up  and  whispered  a  few  words  to 
an  attendant  whom  she  had  beckoned  to  her.  The 
Javanese  disappeared  and  soon  returned,  crouching  all 
the  way  through  the  front-verandah  and  carrying  a 
long  object  in  a  yellow  case.  The  princess  took  it 
from  him  and  handed  it  to  Sunario,  who  took  a  walk- 
ing-stick from  the  yellow  silk  case  and  oft'ered  it  to 
the  resident  as  a  token  of  their  fraternal  friendship. 
Van  Oudijck  accepted  it,  understanding  the  symbol. 
For  the  yellow  silk  case  was  of  the  colour  and  the 
material  of  authority,  yellow  or  gold  and  silk;  the 
stick  was  of  a  wood  that  serves  as  a  protection  against 
snake-bites  and  ill-luck;  and  the  heavy  knob  was 
wrought  of  the  metal  of  authority,  gold,  in  the  form  of 
the  ancient  sultan's  crown.    This  stick,  offered  at  such 


174  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

a  moment,   signified  that  the  Adiningrats  submitted 
anew  and  that  Van  Oudijck  could  trust  them. 

And  when  he  took  his  leave,  he  felt  very  proud  and 
esteemed  himself  highly.  For  by  exercising  tact, 
diplomacy  and  knowledge  of  the  Javanese  he  had  won ; 
he  would  have  allayed  the  rebellion  merely  by  words. 
That  would  be  a  fact. 

That  was  so,  that  would  be  so:  a  fact.  On  that 
first  evening  of  the  passer-malam,  lighted  gaily  with  a 
hundred  paraffin-lamps,  scented  alluringly  with  the 
trailing  odours  of  cooking  food,  full  of  the  motley 
whirl  of  the  holiday-making  populace,  that  first  even- 
ing was  wholly  given  up  to  rejoicing;  and  the  people 
discussed  with  one  another  the  long  and  friendly  visit 
which  the  resident  had  paid  to  the  regent  and  his 
mother;  for  they  had  seen  the  carriage  with  the  pajong 
M'-aiting  a  long  time  in  the  drive  and  the  regent's  at- 
tendants had  told  of  the  present  of  the  walking-stick. 

That  was  so ;  the  fact  existed  and  had  happened  as 
Van  Oudijck  had  planned  it  in  advance  and  compelled 
it  to  happen.  And  that  he  should  be  proud  of  this 
was  human.  But  what  he  had  not  compelled  or 
planned  in  advance  was  the  hidden  forces,  which  he 
never  divined,  whose  existence  he  would  deny,  always, 
in  his  simple,  natural  life.  What  he  did  not  see  and 
hear  and  feel  was  the  very  hidden  force,  which  had 
indeed  subsided,  but  was  yet  smouldering,  like  a  vol- 
canic fire,  under  the  apparently  peaceful  meadows  of 
flowers  and  amity  and  peace;  the  hatred  which  would 
possess  a  power  of  impenetrable  mystery,  against 
which  he,  the  European,  was  unarmed. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Van  Oudijck  was  fond  of  certain  effects.  He  did 
not  say  much  about  his  visit  to  the  Kabupaten  that 
day,  nor  in  the  evening,  when  Eldersma  and  Van 
Helderen  came  to  speak  to  him  about  the  kumpidan 
which  would  be  held  the  next  morning.  They  felt 
more  or  less  uneasy  and  asked  if  they  should  go  armed. 
But  Van  Oudijck  very  firmly  and  decidedly  forbade 
them  to  take  arms  with  them  and  said  that  no  one 
was  allow^ed  to  do  so.  The  officials  gave  way,  but 
nobody  felt  comfortable.  The  kumpidan,  however, 
took  place  in  complete  peace  and  harmony ;  only,  there 
were  m.ore  people  moving  about  among  the  booths  of 
the  passer-malarn,  there  were  more  police  at  the  orna- 
mental arches,  with  the  rippling  strips  of  bunting. 
But  nothing  happened.  The  wives  indoors  were 
anxious  and  felt  relieved  when  their  husbands  were 
safely  back  home  again.  And  Van  Oudijck  had  ob- 
tained his  effect.  He  now  paid  a  few  visits,  feeling 
sure  of  his  grip  on  things,  relying  on  the  Raden-Aju 
Pangeran.  He  reassured  the  ladies  and  told  them  to 
think  of  nothing  now  except  the  fancy-fair.  But  they 
were  none  too  confident.  Some  families,  in  the  even- 
ing, bolted  all  their  doors  and  remained  in  the  middle 
gallery  with  their  visitors  and  children  and  habus, 
armed,  listening,  on  their  guard. 

Theo,  to  whom  his  father  had  spoken  in  an  out- 
burst of  confidence,  played  a  practical  joke  with  Addie. 
The  two  lads,  one  evening,  went  round  the  houses  of 
those  whom  he  knew  to  be  most  fidgety  and  made  their 


176  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

way  into  the  front-verandah  and  shouted  to  have  the 
doors  opened ;  and  they  could  hear  the  cocking  of  fire- 
arms in  the  middle  galleries.  They  had  a  merry  even- 
ing of  it. 

Then  at  last  the  fancy-fair  took  place.  Eva  had 
organized  a  series  of  three  tableaux  from  the  Arthur- 
ian legend  on  the  stage  of  the  club:  Vivian  and 
Guinevere  and  Lancelot;  in  the  middle  of  the  garden 
was  a  Madura  proa,  fitted  up  like  a  Viking's  ship,  in 
which  iced  punch  was  served;  a  neighbouring  sugar- 
factory,  always  full  of  fun,  famed  for  its  jovial  tone, 
had  provided  a  complete  Dutch  poffcrtjes^-stall,  as  a 
nostalgic  memory  of  Holland,  with  the  ladies  dressed 
as  Frisian  peasant-girls  and  the  young  fellows  from 
the  factory  as  cooks;  and  the  excitement  over  the 
Transvaal  was  represented  by  a  Majuba  Hill  with 
ladies  and  gentlemen  in  fantastic  Boer  costumes. 
There  was  not  a  word  about  the  tremendous  sea- 
quake at  Ternate,  although  one  half  of  the  receipts  was 
destined  for  the  devastated  districts.  Under  the  glow- 
ing festoons  of  Chinese  lanterns  slung  across  the 
gardens,  a  great  sense  of  fun  prevailed,  coupled  with  a 
readiness  to  spend  pots  of  money,  especially  on  behalf 
of  the  Transvaal.  But  amid  the  merriment  there  yet 
quivered  a  fear.  Groups  assembled,  peering  glances 
were  cast  at  the  road  outside,  where  Indos,  Javanese, 
Chinese  and  Arabs  stood  round  the  steaming  portable 
kitchens.  And  the  visitors,  while  tossing  off  a  glass  of 
champagne  or  toying  with  a  plate  of  poffertjes,  turned 
their  ears  in  the  direction  of  the  aloon-aloon,  where 
the  passcr-malam  was  in  full  swing.  When  Van 
Oudijck  appeared  with  Doddie,  received  with  Wien 

*  Fritters  figuring  at  every  Dutch  "kermis. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  177 

Neerlandsch  Blocd/  generously  distributing  rijks- 
daalders  and  bankjes,'  he  was  constantly  asked  whis- 
pered questions.  And  when  it  was  seen  that  Mrs. 
van  Oudijck  was  not  coming,  people  began  to  ask  one 
another  where  she  was.  She  had  been  suffering  so 
with  her  teeth,  said  one ;  she  had  gone  to  Surabaya  to 
see  the  dentist.  They  did  not  think  it  nice  of  her; 
they  did  not  like  her  when  they  did  not  see  her.  She 
was  much  discussed  that  evening:  the  most  horrible 
scandals  were  told  about  her.  Doddie  took  up  her 
stand  in  the  Madura  proa  as  a  saleswoman ;  and  Van 
Oudijck,  with  Eldersma,  Van  Helderen  and  a  couple 
of  controllers  from  other  districts,  went  round  and 
treated  the  members  of  his  council.  When  people  asked 
their  mysterious  questions,  with  anxious  glances  at  the 
road,  with  ears  pricked  towards  the  aloon-aloon,  he 
reassured  them  with  a  majestic  smile:  nothing  was 
going  to  happen,  he  pledged  his  word  on  it.  They  con- 
sidered him  extremely  trusting,  mightily  sure  of  him- 
self;  but  the  jovial  smile  around  his  thick  moustache 
was  comforting.  He  urged  all  who  belonged  to  his 
good  town  of  Labuwangi  to  think  of  nothing  but  en- 
joyment and  benevolence.  And,  when  suddenly  the 
Regent,  Raden  Adipati  Sunario,  and  his  wife,  the 
young  Raden-Aju,  appeared  at  the  entrance  and  paid 
for  bouquets,  programmes  and  fans  with  a  hundred- 
guilder  hankje,  the  tension  was  relaxed  throughout 
the  garden.  Everybody  soon  knew  about  the  hundred- 
guilder  hanhjc.  And  they  all  breathed  again,  realizing 
that  there  was  now  no  occasion  for  anxiety,  that  there 
would  be  no  insurrection  that  night.    They  made  much 

^  The  Dutch  national  anthem. 

^  Bank-notes. 


178  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

of  the  regent  and  his  smiling  young  wife,  who  glittered 
with  her  beautiful  jewels. 

Out  of  sheer  relief  and  relaxation  of  their  tense 
anxiety,  out  of  sheer  craziness,  they  spent  more  and 
more  money  trying  to  vie  with  the  few  wealthy 
Chinese — those  dating  from  before  the  opium- 
monopoly, — the  owners  of  the  white  marble  and  stucco 
palaces — as  these  with  their  wives,  in  embroidered 
grey  and  green  Chinese  costumes,  their  shiny  hair 
stuck  full  of  flowers  and  precious  stones,  smelling 
strongly  of  sandalwood,  scattered  rijksdaalders  broad- 
cast. Money  flowed  like  water,  dripped  as  though  in 
silver  drops  into  the  collecting-boxes  of  the  delighted 
saleswomen.  And  the  fancy-fair  was  a  success.  And, 
when  Van  Oudijck  at  last,  little  by  little,  here  and 
there,  said  a  word  to  Doom  de  Bruijn,  to  Rantzow, 
to  the  officials  from  other  residencies  about  his  visit, 
about  his  interview  with  the  Raden-Aju  Pangeran — 
assuming  an  air  of  humility  and  simplicity,  but  never- 
theless, despite  himself,  beaming  with  happy  pride, 
with  delight  in  his  triumph, — then  he  attained  his 
greatest  effect. 

The  story  ran  round  the  garden,  of  the  tact,  the 
cleverness  of  the  resident,  who  had  laid  the  spectre  of 
insurrection  merely  with  a  word.  He  received  a  sort 
of  ovation.  And  he  filled  every  glass  with  champagne, 
he  bought  up  every  fan,  he  bought  all  the  tickets  in 
the  tombola  that  remained  unsold.  It  was  his  apotheo- 
sis, his  greatest  moment  of  success  and  popularity. 
And  he  joked  with  the  ladles  and  flirted  with  them. 

The  entertainment  was  prolonged  until  daylight, 
until  six  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  merry  cooks 
were  drunk  and  danced  around  their  poffertjes-stove. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  179 

And,  when  Van  Oudijck  went  home  at  last,  he  felt  an 
inner  mood  of  self-satisfaction,  of  strength,  he  was 
dehghted,  enraptured  with  himself.  He  felt  a  king  in 
his  little  world  and  a  diplomatist  into  the  bargain  and 
beloved  by  all  whose  quiet  and  peace  he  had  assured. 
That  evening  made  him  rise  in  his  own  estimation  and 
he  valued  himself  more  highly  than  he  had  ever  done 
before.    Never  had  he  felt  as  happy  as  he  felt  now. 

He  had  sent  the  carriage  away  and  he  walked  home 
with  Doddie.  A  few  early  salesmen  were  going  to  the 
passer.  Doddie,  dog-tired  and  half-asleep,  dragged  her- 
self along  on  her  father's  arm  .  .  .  until  some  one 
passed  close  beside  her  and,  feeling  rather  than  seeing, 
she  suddenly  shuddered.  She  looked  up.  The  figure 
had  passed.  She  looked  round  and  recognized  the 
back  of  the  hadji,  hurrying  away.     .     .     . 

She  turned  cold  and  felt  as  though  she  would  faint. 
But  then,  wearily,  walking  in  her  sleep,  she  reflected 
that  she  was  half  dreaming,  dreaming  of  Addie,  of 
Patjaram,  of  the  moonlit  night  under  the  tjemaras, 
where  the  white  hadji  had  startled  her  at  the  end  of 
the  avenue.     .     .     . 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Eva  Eldersma  was  in  a  more  listless  and  dejected 
mood  than  she  had  yet  experienced  in  Java.  After 
her  efforts,  after  the  fuss  and  the  success  of  the  fancy- 
fair,  after  the  shuddering  fear  of  a  rising,  the  little 
town  conscientiously  went  to  sleep  again,  as  though 
well  content  to  be  able  to  slumber  as  usual.  It  was 
December  and  the  heavy  rains  had  begun,  as  usual,  on 
the  fifth  of  the  month:  the  rainy  monsoon  invariably 
opened  on  St.  Nicholas'  Day,  The  clouds  which,  for 
the  past  month,  continually  swelling,  had  piled  them- 
selves upon  the  lower  horizons,  now  rose  curtain-wise, 
like  water-laden  sails  higher  against  the  skies,  rent 
open  as  by  a  sudden  fury  of  far-flashing  lightning, 
pouring  and  lashing  down  as  though  this  wealth  of 
water  could  no  longer  be  upheld,  now  that  the  swollen 
sails  were  torn  apart,  as  though  all  their  wanton 
abundance  came  streaming  down  from  a  single  rent. 
Of  an  evening,  Eva's  front-verandah  was  invaded  by  a 
crazy  swarm  of  insects,  which,  drunk  with  light, 
rushed  upon  their  destruction  in  the  lamps,  as  in  an 
apotheosis  of  fiery  death,  filling  the  lamp-chimneys  and 
strewing  the  marble  tables  with  their  fluttering,  dying 
bodies.  Eva  inhaled  a  cooler  air;  but  a  miasma  of 
damp,  arising  from  earth  and  leaves,  soaked  the  walls, 
seemed  to  ooze  from  the  furniture,  dimming  the  mir- 
rors, staining  the  silk  hangings  and  covering  boots  and 
shoes  with  mildew,  as  though  nature's  frenzied  down- 
pour were  bent  on  the  ruin  of  all  that  was  fine  and 
delicate,    sparkling  and   graceful   in  human  achieve- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  181 

ment.  But  the  trees  and  foliage  and  grass  shot  up 
and  expanded  and  rioted  hixuriantly  upwards,  in  a 
thousand  shades  of  fresh  green;  and,  in  the  reviving 
glory  of  verdant  nature,  the  crouching  human  com- 
munity of  open-fronted  villas,  wet  and  humid  with 
fungi,  all  the  whiteness  of  the  lime-washed  pillars  and 
flower-pots  turned  to  a  mouldy  green. 

Eva  vvatched  the  slow  and  gradual  spoiling  of  her 
house,  her  furniture,  her  clothes.  Day  by  day,  in- 
exorably, something  was  spoilt,  something  rotted 
away,  something  was  covered  with  mildew  or  rust. 
And  none  of  the  aesthetic  philosophy  with  which  she 
had  at  first  taught  herself  to  love  India,  to  appreciate 
the  good  in  India,  to  seek  in  India  for  the  external 
plastic  beauty  and  the  inward  beauty  of  soul,  was 
able  to  withstand  the  streaming  water,  the  cracking  of 
her  furniture,  the  staining  of  her  frocks  and  gloves, 
the  damp,  mildew  and  rust  that  ruined  the  exquisite 
environment  which  she  had  designed  and  created  all 
around  her,  as  a  comfort,  to  console  her  for  living  in 
India.  All  her  logic,  all  her  feeling  of  making  the 
best  of  things,  of  finding  something  attractive  and 
beautiful  after  all  in  the  land  of  all-prevailing  nature 
and  of  people  eager  for  money  and  positions:  all  this 
failed  her  and  came  to  naught,  now  that  she  was  every 
moment  irritated  and  angered  as  a  housewife,  as  an 
elegant  woman,  an  artistic  woman.  No,  it  was  im- 
possible in  India  to  surround  one's  self  Avith  taste  and 
exquisiteness.  She  had  been  here  for  only  two  years 
and  she  was  still  able  to  make  a  certain  fight  for  her 
western  culture ;  but  nevertheless  she  was  now  already 
better  able  than  in  the  first  days  after  her  arrival  to 
understand  the  laisser-aller  of  the  men,   after  their 


182  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

hard  work,  and  of  the  women,  in  their  housekeeping. 
True,   the  servants  with  their  soundless  movements, 
working  with  gentle  hands,  willing,  never  impertinent, 
were  to  her  thinking  far  superior  to  the  noisy,  pound- 
ing maids  in  Holland ;  but  nevertheless  she  felt  in  all 
her  household  an  eastern  antagonism  to  her  western 
ideas.     It  was  always  a  struggle  not  to  surrender  to 
that  laisser-aller,  to  the  running  to  waste  of  the  over- 
large  grounds,  invariably  hung  at  the  back  with  the 
dirty  washing  of  the  servants  and  strewn  with  nibbled 
mangoes;  to  the  gradual  spoiling  and  fading  of  the 
paint  of  the  house,  which  was  also  too  large,  too  open, 
too  much  exposed  to  wind  and  weather  to  be  cared 
for  with  Dutch  cleanliness ;  to  the  habit  of  sitting  and 
rocking,  undressed,  in  sarong  and  kabaai,  with  one's 
bare  feet  in  slippers,  because  it  was  really  too  hot,  too 
sultry  to  dress  one's  self  in  a  frock  or  tea-gown,  which 
only  became  soaked  in  perspiration.     It  was  for  her 
sake  that  her  husband  always  dressed  for  dinner,  in  a 
black  jacket  and  stand-up  collar;  but,  when  she  saw 
his  tired  face,  with  that  more  and  more  fixed,  over- 
tired office  expression  above  that  stand-up  collar,  she 
herself  begged  him  not  to  trouble  to  dress  next  time 
after  his  second  bath  and  allowed  him  to  dine  in  a  white 
jacket,  or  even  in  pyjamas.     She  thought  it  terrible, 
thought  it  unspeakably  dreadful;  it  shocked  all  her 
ideas  of  correctness ;  but  really  he  was  too  tired  and  it 
was  too  sultry  and  oppressive  for  her  to  expect  any- 
thing more  from  him.    And  she,  after  only  two  years 
in    India,    understood    more    and    more    easily    that 
laisser-allcr — in  dress,  in  body  and  In  soul — now  that 
every  day  she  lost  something  more  of  her  fresh,  Dutch 
blood  and  her  western  energy,  now  that  she  admitted, 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  183 

certainly,  that  in  India  men  worked  perhaps  as  in  no 
other  country,  but  that  they  worked  with  one  sole 
object  before  their  eyes;  position,  money,  retirement, 
pension  .  .  .  and  home,  back  home  to  Europe.  True, 
there  were  others,  born  in  India,  who  had  been  out  of 
India  only  once,  for  barely  a  year,  who  would  not  hear 
of  Holland,  who  adored  their  land  of  sunshine.  She 
knew  that  the  De  Luces  were  like  this ;  and  there  were 
others  as  well,  she  knew.  But  in  her  own  circle  of 
civil  servants  and  planters  every  one  had  the  same 
object  in  life:  position,  money  .  .  ,  and  then 
off,  off  to  Europe.  Every  one  calculated  the  years  of 
work  still  before  him.  Every  one  saw  before  him  in  the 
future  the  illusion  of  that  European  retirement.  An 
occasional  friend,  like  Van  Oudijck,  an  occasional 
civil  servant,  who  perhaps  loved  his  work  for  his 
work's  sake  and  because  it  suited  his  nature,  feared 
the  coming  pensioned  retirement,  which  would  mean  a 
stupid,  vegetating  existence.  But  Van  Oudijck  was  an 
exception.  The  majority  worked  in  the  service  and 
on  the  plantations  for  the  sake  of  the  rest  to  come. 
Her  husband  also,  for  instance,  was  toiling  like  a 
slave  to  become  assistant-resident  and,  after  some 
years,  to  draw  his  pension ;  he  slaved  and  toiled  for 
his  illusion  of  rest.  At  present  she  felt  her  own  energy 
leaving  her  with  every  drop  of  blood  that  she  felt 
flowing  more  sluggishly  through  her  weary  veins. 
And,  in  these  early  days  of  the  wet  monsoon,  while  the 
eaves  of  the  house  incessantly  discharged  the  thick, 
plashing  shafts  which  irritated  her  with  their  clatter, 
while  she  watched  the  gradual  ruin  of  all  the  material 
surroundings  which  she  had  selected  with  so  much 
taste  as  her  artistic  consolation  in  India,  she  reached  a 


184  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

worse  discordant  mood  of  listlessness  and  dejection 
than  she  had  ever  gone  through  before.  Her  child 
was  still  too  small  to  mean  much  to  her,  to  be  a 
kindred  spirit.  Her  husband  did  nothing  but  work. 
He  was  a  kind  and  thoughtful  husband  to  her,  a  dear 
fellow  in  every  way,  a  man  of  great  simplicity,  whom 
she  had  accepted,  perhaps  only  because  of  that  sim- 
plicity, because  of  the  quiet  serenity  of  his  smiling, 
fair-skinned,  Frisian  face  and  the  burliness  of  his 
broad  shoulders,  after  one  or  two  excited,  juvenile 
romances  of  enthusiasm  and  misunderstanding  and 
soulful  discussions,  romances  dating  from  her  girl- 
hood. She,  who  was  herself  neither  simple  nor 
serene,  had  sought  the  simplicity  of  her  life  in  a  simple 
romance.  But  his  qualities  failed  to  satisfy  her.  Now 
especially,  when  she  had  been  longer  in  India  and  was 
suffering  defeat  In  her  contest  with  the  country  that 
did  not  harmonize  with  her  nature,  his  serene  conjugal 
love  failed  to  satisfy  her. 

She  was  beginning  to  feel  unhappy.  She  was  too 
versatile  a  woman  to  find  all  her  happiness  in  her  little 
boy.  He  certainly  filled  a  part  of  her  life,  with  the 
minor  cares  of  the  present  and  the  thought  of  his 
future.  She  had  even  worked  out  a  whole  educational 
system  for  him.  But  he  did  not  fill  her  life  entirely. 
And  a  longing  for  Holland  encompassed  her,  a  long- 
ing for  her  parents,  a  longing  for  the  beautiful,  artis- 
tic home  where  you  were  always  meeting  painters, 
writers,  musicians,  the  artistic  salon — an  exception  In 
Holland — which  gathered  together  for  a  brief  moment 
the  artistic  elements  which  In  Holland  usually  re- 
mained Isolated. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  185 

The  vision  passed  before  her  eyes  hke  a  vague  and 
distant  dream,  while  she  listened  to  the  approaching 
thunders  that  filled  the  air,  sultry  to  bursting-point, 
A\hile  she  gazed  at  the  downpour  that  followed.  Here 
she  had  nothing.  Here  she  felt  out  of  place.  Here  she 
had  her  little  clique  of  adherents,  who  collected  around 
her  because  she  was  cheerful ;  but  she  found  no  sort 
of  deeper  sympathy,  no  serious  conversation  .  .  . 
except  in  Van  Helderen.  And  with  him  she  meant  to 
be  careful,  so  as  to  give  him  no  illusions. 

There  was  only  Van  Helderen.  And  she  thought  of 
all  the  other  people  around  her  at  Labuwangi.  She 
thought  of  people,  people  everywhere.  And  very  pessi- 
mistic in  these  days,  she  found  in  all  of  them  the  same 
egoism,  the  same  self-complacency,  the  same  unattrac- 
tiveness,  the  same  self-absorption:  she  could  hardly 
express  it  to  herself,  distracted  as  she  was  by  the  terrific 
force  of  the  pelting  rain.  But  she  found  in  every- 
body conscious  and  unconscious  traits  of  unloveliness 
.  .  .  even  in  her  faithful  adherents  .  .  .  and 
in  her  husband  .  .  .  and  in  the  men,  young  wives, 
girls,  young  men  around  her.  There  was  nothing  in 
any  of  them  but  his  own  ego.  Not  one  of  them  had 
sufficient  harmony  of  mind  for  himself  and  another. 
She  disapproved  of  this  in  one,  hated  that  in  another; 
a  third  and  a  fourth  she  condemned  entirely.  This 
critical  attitude  made  her  despondent  and  melancholy, 
for  it  was  against  her  nature:  she  preferred  to  like 
others.  She  liked  to  live,  in  spontaneous  harmony, 
with  a  number  of  associates:  originally  she  had  a  pro- 
found love  of  people,  a  love  of  humanity.  Great 
questions  moved  her.  But  nothing  that  she  felt  met 
with  any  echo.    She  found  herself  empty  and  alone,  in 


186  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

a  country,  a  town,  an  environment  In  which  all  and 
everything,  large  and  small,  offended  her  soul,  her 
body,  her  character,  her  nature.  Her  husband  worked. 
Her  child  was  already  becoming  thoroughly  Indian. 
Her  piano  was  out  of  tune. 

She  stood  up  and  tried  the  piano,  with  long  scales 
that  ended  in  the  Fencrzauhcr  of  Valkyrie.  But  the 
roar  of  the  rain  was  louder  than  her  playing.  When 
she  got  up  again,  feeling  desperately  dejected,  she  saw 
Van  Helderen  standing  before  her: 

*'You  startled  me,"  she  said. 

"May  I  stay  to  lunch?"  he  asked.  "I  am  all  by 
myself  at  home.  Ida  has  gone  to  Tosari  for  her 
malaria  and  has  taken  the  children  with  her.  She  went 
yesterday.  It's  an  expensive  business.  How  I'm  to 
keep  going  this  month  I  do  not  know." 

"Send  the  children  to  us  after  they've  had  a  few 
days  in  the  hills." 

"Won't  they  bother  you  ?" 

"Of  course  not.     I'll  write  to  Ida." 

"It's  really  awfully  good  of  you.  It  would  certainly 
make  things  easier  for  me." 

She  laughed  softly. 

"Aren't  you  well?"  he  asked. 

"I  feel  deadly,"  she  said. 

"How  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  feel  as  if  I  were  dying  by  Inches." 

"Why?" 

"It's  terrible  here.  We've  been  longing  for  the 
rains ;  and,  now  that  they've  come,  they  are  driving  me 
mad.  And  .  .  .  I  don't  know  what:  I  can't  stand 
it  here  any  longer." 

"Where?" 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  187 

"In  India.  I  have  taught  myself  to  see  the  good,  the 
beautiful  in  this  country.  It's  all  no  use.  I  can't  go 
on  with  it." 

"Go  to  Holland,"  he  said,  gently. 

"My  people  would  be  glad  to  see  me,  no  doubt.  It 
would  be  good  for  my  boy,  because  he's  forgetting  his 
Dutch  daily,  though  I  had  begun  to  teach  it  to  him  so 
conscientiously,  and  he  speaks  Malay  ...  or  sinjo. 
But  I  can't  leave  my  husband  here  all  alone.  He 
would  have  nothing  here  without  me.  At  least,  I 
think  so:  that  is  one  more  sort  of  illusion.  Perhaps 
it's  not  so  at  all." 

"But,  if  vou  fall  ill     .     .     .      ?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!" 

Her  whole  being  was  filled  with  an  unusual  fatigue. 

"Perhaps  you're  exaggerating!"  he  began  cheer- 
fully. "Come,  perhaps  you're  exaggerating!  What's 
upsetting  you,  what's  making  you  so  unhappy  ?  Let's 
draw  up  an  inventory  together." 

"An  inventory  of  my  misfortunes  ?  Very  well.  My 
garden  is  a  marsh.  Three  chairs  in  my  front-verandah 
are  splitting  to  pieces.  The  white  ants  have  devoured 
my  beautiful  Japanese  mats.  A  new  silk  frock  has 
come  out  all  over  stains,  for  no  reason  that  I  can  make 
out.  Another  is  all  unravelled,  simply  with  the  heat, 
I  believe.  To  say  nothing  of  various  minor  miseries 
of  the  same  order.  To  console  myself  I  took  refuge 
in  the  Fnierzaiiher.  My  piano  was  out  of  tune ;  1  be- 
lieve there  are  cockroaches  walking  among  the 
strings." 

He  gave  a  little  laugh. 

"We're  idiots  here,"  she  continued,  "we  Europeans 
in   this   country'!      Why   do   we   bring   all   the   para- 


188  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

phernalia  of  our  costly  civilization  with  us,  considering 
that  it's  bound  not  to  last?  Why  don't  we  live  in  a 
cool  bamboo  hut,  sleep  on  a  mat,  dress  in  a  kain 
pandjang  and  a  chintz  kahaai,  with  a  scarf  over  our 
shoulders  and  a  flower  in  our  hair  ?  All  your  civiliza- 
tion by  which  you  propose  to  grow  rich  .  .  .  it's 
a  western  idea,  which  fails  in  the  long  run.  Our  whole 
administration  .  .  .  it's  so  tiring  In  the  heat. 
Why — if  we  must  be  here — don't  we  live  simply  and 
plant  paddy  and  live  on  nothing?" 

"You're  talking  like  a  woman,"  he  said,  with  an- 
other little  laugh. 

"Possibly,"  she  said.  "Perhaps  I  don't  mean  quite 
all  I  say.  But  that  I  feel  here,  opposing  me,  opposing 
all  my  western  notions,  a  force  which  is  antagonistic 
to  me  .  .  .  that  is  certain.  I  am  sometimes  fright- 
ened. I  always  feel  .  .  .  that  I  am  on  the  point  of 
being  conquered,  I  don't  know  what  by:  by  something 
out  of  the  ground,  by  a  force  of  nature,  by  a  secret  in 
the  soul  of  these  black  people,  whom  I  don't  know. 
.     I  feel  particularly  afraid  at  night." 

**You're  overwrought,"  he  said,  tenderly. 

"Possibly,"  she  replied,  wearily,  seeing  that  he  did 
not  understand  and  too  tired  to  go  on  explaining. 
"Let's  talk  about  something  else.  That  table-turning's 
very  curious." 

"Very,"  he  said. 

"The'  other  day,  the  three  of  us:  Ida,  you  and 
I  " 

X         •  •  • 

"It  was  certainly  very  curious." 
"Do  you  remember  the  first  time  ?    Addle  de  Luce : 
it  seems  to  be  true  about  him  and  Mrs.  van  Oudijck. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  189 

.  .  .  And  the  insurrection  .  .  .  the  table  fore- 
told it." 

"May  we  not  have  suggested  it  unconsciously?" 

"I  don't  know.  But  to  think  that  we  should  all  be 
playing  fair  and  that  that  table  should  go  tapping  and 
talking  to  us  by  means  of  an  alphabet !" 

"I  shouldn't  do  it  often,  Eva,  if  I  were  you." 

"No,  I  think  it  inexplicable.  And  yet  it's  already 
beginning  to  bore  me.  One  grows  so  accustomed  to 
the  incomprehensible." 

"Everything's  incomprehensible." 

"Yes     .     ,     .     and  everything's  a  bore." 

"Eva!"  he  said,  with  a  soft,  reproachful  laugh. 

"I  give  up  the  fight.  I  shall  just  sit  in  my  rocking- 
chair     ,     .     .     and  look  at  the  rain." 

"There  was  a  time  when  you  used  to  see  the  beau- 
tiful side  of  my  country." 

"Your  country  ?  Which  you  would  be  glad  to  leave 
to-morrow  to  go  to  the  Paris  Exhibition !" 

"I've  never  seen  anything." 

"How  humble  you  are  to-day !" 

"I  am  sad,  because  of  you." 

"Oh,  please  don't  be  that !" 

"Play  something  more." 

"Well,  then,  have  your  gin-and-bitters.  Help  your- 
self. I  shall  play  on  my  out-of-tune  piano;  it  will 
sound  as  melodious  as  my  soul,  which  is  also  all  of  a 
tangle. 

She  went  back  to  the  middle  galleiy  and  played 
something  from  Parsifal.  He  remained  sitting  out- 
side and  listened.  The  rain  was  pouring  furiously. 
The  garden  stood  clean  and  empt}^  A  violent  thunder- 
clap seemed  to  split  the  world  asunder.     Nature  was 


190  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

supreme;  and  in  her  gigantic  manifestation  the  two 
people  in  that  damp  house  were  diminished,  his  love 
was  nothing,  her  melancholy  was  nothing  and  the 
mystic  music  of  the  Grail  was  as  a  child's  ditty  to  the 
echoing  mystery  of  that  thunder-clap,  whereat  fate 
itself  seemed  to  sail  with  heavenly  cymbals  over  these 
creatures  doomed  in  the  Deluge. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Van  Helderen's  two  children,  a  boy  and  girl  of  six 
and  seven,  were  staying  at  Eva's;  and  Van  Helderen 
came  in  regularly  once  a  day  for  a  meal.  He  no 
longer  spoke  of  his  intense  feeling,  as  though  unwilling 
to  disturb  the  pleasant  intimacy  of  their  daily  inter- 
course. And  she  accepted  his  daily  visits,  was  power- 
less to  keep  him  at  a  distance.  He  was  the  only  man  in 
her  immediate  circle  with  whom  she  could  speak  and 
think  aloud ;  and  he  was  a  comfort  to  her  in  these  days 
of  dejection.  She  did  not  understand  how  she  had 
come  to  this,  but  she  gradually  lapsed  into  an  absolute 
apathy,  a  sort  of  annihilating  condition  of  thinking 
nothing  necessary.  She  had  never  been  in  this  state 
before.  Her  nature  was  lively  and  cheerful,  seeking 
and  admiring  the  beautiful  in  poetry  and  music  and 
painting,  things  which,  from  her  early  childhood,  from 
her  childish  books,  she  had  seen  about  her  and  felt  and 
discussed.  In  India  she  had  gradually  come  to  lack 
everything  of  which  she  felt  a  need.  In  her  despair 
she  succumbed  to  a  sort  of  nihilism  that  made  her 
ask: 

"What  is  the  reason  of  anything?  .  .  .  Why 
the  world  and  the  people  in  it  and  the  mountains? 
.      .      .      Why  all  this  tiny  whirl  of  life?" 

And  then,  when  she  read  of  the  social  movements, 
of  the  great  social  problems  in  Europe,  of  the  in- 
creasingly urgent  Indo  question  in  Java,  she  thought 
to  herself: 


192  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"Why  should  there  be  a  world,  if  man  eternally 
remains  the  same,  small  and  suffering  ajid  oppressed 
by  all  the  misery  of  his  humanity?" 

She  did  not  see  the  purpose  of  it  all.  Half  of  man- 
kind was  suffering  poverty  and  struggling  upwards 
out  of  that  darkness  ...  to  what  ?  The  other 
half  was  stagnating  stupidly  and  dully  amid  its  riches. 
Between  the  two  was  a  scale  of  gradations,  from 
black  poverty  to  dismal  wealth.  Over  them  stood  the 
rainbow  of  the  eternal  illusions,  love,  art,  the  great 
notes  of  interrogation  of  justice  and  peace  and  an  ideal 
future.  .  .  .  She  felt  that  it  was  much  ado 
about  nothing,  she  failed  to  see  the  purpose  and  she 
thought  to  herself: 

"Why  is  it  all  so  .  .  .  and  why  the  world 
and  poor  humanity?'* 

She  had  never  felt  like  this  before,  but  there  was  no 
struggling  against  it.  Gradually,  from  day  to  day, 
India  was  making  her  so,  making  her  sick  at  her  very 
soul.  Frans  van  Helderen  was  her  only  consolation. 
The  young  controller,  who  had  never  been  to  Europe, 
who  had  received  all  his  education  at  Batavia,  who 
had  passed  his  examinations  at  Batavia,  with  his  dis- 
tinguished manners,  his  supple  courtesy,  his  strange, 
enigmatic  nationality,  had  grown  dear  to  her  in 
friendship  because  of  his  almost  exotic  development. 
She  told  him  how  she  delighted  in  this  friendship:  and 
he  no  longer  replied  by  offering  his  love.  There  was 
too  much  charm  about  their  present  relation.  There 
was  something  ideal  in  it,  which  they  both  needed.  In 
their  everyday  surroundings  that  friendship  shone  be- 
fore them  like  an  exquisite  halo  of  which  they  were 
both  proud.    He  often  called  to  see  her,  especially  now 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  193 

that  his  wife  was  at  Tosari ;  and  they  would  walk  In 
the  evening  twilight  to  the  beacon  which  stood  by  the 
sea  like  a  small  Eiffel  tower.  These  walks  were  much 
talked  about,  but  they  did  not  mind  that.  They  sat 
down  on  the  foundation  of  the  beacon,  looked  out  to 
sea  and  listened  to  the  distance.  Ghostly  proas,  with 
sails  like  night-birds'  w4ngs,  glided  into  the  canal,  to 
the  droning  sing-song  of  the  fishermen.  A  melancholy 
of  resignation,  of  a  small  world  and  small  people 
hovered  beneath  the  skies  filled  with  twinkling  stars, 
Avhere  gleamed  the  mystic  diamonds  of  the  Southern 
Cross  or  the  Turkish  crescent  of  the  horned  moon. 
And,  above  that  melancholy  of  the  droning  fishermen, 
of  crazy  proas,  of  small  people  at  the  foot  of  the  little 
light-house,  drifted  a  fathomless  immensity  of  the 
skies  and  the  eternal  stars.  And,  from  out  the  im- 
mensity, drifted  the  unutterable,  as  it  were  the  super- 
humanly  divine,  wherein  all  that  was  small  and  human 
sank  and  melted  away. 

"Why  attach  any  value  to  life  when  I  may  die  to- 
morrow?" thought  Eva.  "Why  all  this  confusion  and 
turmoil  of  mankind,  when  to-morrow  perhaps  every- 
thing may  have  ceased  to  exist?" 

And  she  put  the  question  to  him.  He  replied  that 
each  of  us  was  not  living  for  himself  and  the  present 
age,  but  for  all  mankind  and  for  the  future.  But  she 
gave  a  bitter  laugh,  shrugged  her  shoulders,  thought 
him  commonplace.  And  she  thought  herself  common- 
place, to  think  such  things  that  had  so  often  been 
thought  before.  But  still  notwithstanding  her  self- 
criticism,  she  continued  under  the  obsession  of  the 
uselessness  of  life  when  everything  might  be  dead  to- 
morrow.    And  an  humiliating  littleness,  as  of  atoms. 


194  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

overcame  them,  both  of  them,  as  they  sat  there,  gazing 
into  the  spaciousness  of  the  skies  and  the  eternal  stars. 

Yet  they  loved  those  moments,  which  were  every- 
thing in  their  lives;  for,  when  they  did  not  feel  their 
pettiness  too  keenly,  they  spoke  of  books,  music,  paint- 
ing and  the  big,  important  things  of  life.  And  they 
felt  that,  in  spite  of  the  circulating  library  and  the 
Italian  opera  at  Surabaya,  they  were  no  longer  in  touch 
with  the  world.  They  felt  the  great,  important  things 
to  be  very  far  from  them.  And  both  of  them  now  be- 
came seized  with  a  nostalgia  for  Europe,  a  longing  to 
feel  so  very  small  no  longer.  They  would  both  have 
liked  to  get  away,  to  go  to  Europe.  But  neither  of 
them  was  able.  Their  petty,  daily  life  held  them  cap- 
tive. Then,  as  though  spontaneously,  in  mutual  har- 
mony, they  spoke  of  what  was  soul  and  being  and  all 
the  mystery  thereof. 

All  the  mystery.  They  felt  it  in  the  sea,  in  the  sky ; 
but  they  also  quietly  sought  it  in  the  rapping  leg  of  a 
table.  They  did  not  understand  how  a  soul  or  spirit 
could  reveal  itself  through  a  table  on  which  they 
earnestly  laid  their  hands  and  which  through  their 
magnetic  fluid  was  transformed  from  dead  to  living 
matter.  But,  when  they  laid  their  hands  upon  it,  the 
table  lived  and  they  were  forced  to  believe.  The  letters 
which  they  counted  out  were  often  confused,  according 
to  some  strange  alphabet;  and  the  table,  as  though 
directed  by  a  mocking  spirit,  constantly  showed  a 
tendency  to  tease  and  confuse,  to  stop  suddenly  or  to 
be  coarse  and  indecent.  Sometimes  they  read  books 
on  spiritualism  and  did  not  know  whether  to  believe  or 
not. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  195 

These  were  quiet  days  of  quiet  monotony  in  the 
little  town  swept  by  the  rustling  rain.  Their  life  in 
common  seemed  unreal,  like  a  dream  that  rose  through 
the  rain  like  a  mist.  And  it  w^as  like  a  sudden  awaken- 
ing for  Eva  when,  one  afternoon,  walking  outside  in 
the  damp  avenue,  waiting  for  Van  Helderen,  she  saw 
Van  Oudijck  coming  in  her  direction. 

"I  was  just  on  my  way  to  you !"  he  cried,  excitedly. 
"I  was  just  coming  to  ask  a  favour.  Will  you  help  me 
once  more?" 

"In  what,  resident  ?" 

"But  first  tell  me:  aren't  you  well?  You've  not 
been  looking  very  fit  lately." 

"It's  nothing  serious,"  she  said,  with  a  dreary  laugh. 
"It'll  pass.    What  can  I  help  you  in,  resident?" 

"There's  something  to  be  done,  mevrouwtje,  and  we 
can't  manage  without  you.  My  wife  herself  was  say- 
ing this  morning,  'Better  ask  Mrs.  Eldersma.'  " 

"But  tell  me  what  it  is." 

''You  know  Mrs.  Staats,  the  station-master's  widow. 
The  poor  woman  has  been  left  without  a  thing,  except 
her  five  children  and  some  debts." 

"He  committed  suicide,  didn't  he?" 

"Yes,  it's  very  sad.  And  we  really  must  help  her. 
It'll  want  a  lot  of  money.  Sending  round  a  subscrip- 
tion-list won't  bring  in  much.  People  are  very  gener- 
ous, but  they've  already  made  such  sacrifices  lately. 
They  went  mad  at  the  fancy-fair.  They  can't  do  much 
for  the  moment,  so  near  the  end  of  the  month.  But, 
early  next  month,  in  the  first  week  of  January,  mev- 
rouwtje, some  theatricals  by  your  Thalia  society:  You 
know,  nothing  elaborate,  a  couple  of  drawing-room 
sketches  and  no  expenses.  Seats  at  a  guilder  and  a  half, 


196  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

two  guilders  and  a  half,  perhaps,  and,  if  you  set  it  go- 
ing, the  hall  will  be  full ;  people  will  come  over  from 
Surabaya.     You  must  help  me,  you  will,  won't  you  ?" 

"But,  resident,"  said  Eva,  wearily,  "we've  just  had 
those  tahlecmx-vivants.  Don't  be  angry  with  me,  but 
I  don't  care  to  be  always  acting." 

"Yes,  yes,  you  must  this  time,"  Van  Oudijck  in- 
sisted, a  little  imperiously,  greatly  excited  about  his 
plan. 

She  became  peevish.  She  liked  her  independence; 
and  in  these  days  of  dejection  particulary  she  was  too 
disconsolate,  in  these  days  of  dreaming  she  felt  too 
much  confused  to  accede  at  once  with  a  good  grace  to 
his  authoritative  request: 

"Really,  resident,  I  can  think  of  nothing  this  time," 
she  answered,  curtly.  "Why  doesn't  Mrs.  van  Oudijck 
do  it  herself?" 

She  was  startled  when  she  had  made  this  peevish 
remark.  Walking  beside  her,  the  resident  lost  his 
composure ;  and  his  face  clouded  over.  The  animated, 
cheerful  expression  and  the  jovial  smile  around  his 
thick  moustache  suddenly  disappeared.  She  saw  that 
she  had  been  cruel ;  and  she  felt  remorse  for  it.  And 
for  the  first  time,  suddenly,  she  saw  that,  in  love  with 
his  wife  though  he  was,  he  did  not  approve  of  her 
withdrawing  herself  from  everything.  She  saw  that  it 
gave  him  pain.  It  was  as  though  this  side  of  his 
character  were  becoming  clear  to  her:  she  was  seeing  it 
plainly  for  the  first  tim.e. 

He  did  not  know  what  to  reply:  seeking  for  his 
words,  he  remained  silent. 

Then  she  said,  coaxingly: 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  197 

"Don't  be  angry,  resident.  It  wasn't  nice  of  me.  I 
know  that  all  that  sort  of  bustle  only  bores  Mrs.  van 
Oudijck.  I  am  glad  to  relieve  her  of  it.  I  will  do 
anything  you  wish." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  nervous  tears. 

He  was  smiling  now  and  gave  her  a  penetrating 
sidelong  glance : 

"You're  a  bit  overstrung.  But  I  knew  that  you  had 
a  good  heart  .  .  .  and  would  not  leave  me  in  the 
lurch  .  .  .  and  would  consent  to  help  that  good 
old  Mother  Staats.  But  don't  throw  away  any  money, 
mevrouwtje:  no  expense,  no  new  scenery.  Just  your 
wit,  your  talent,  your  beautiful  elocution:  French  or 
Dutch,  as  you  please.  We're  proud  of  all  that  at 
Labuwangi,  you  know;  and  all  the  beautiful  acting — 
which  you  give  us  free  of  expense — is  quite  enough  to 
make  the  performance  a  success.  But  how  overstrung 
you  are,  mevrouwtje!  Why  are  you  crying?  Aren't 
vou  Avell?  Tell  me:  is  there  anything  I  can  do  for 
you?" 

"Don't  work  my  husband  so  hard,  resident.  I  never 
see  anything  of  him." 

He  made  a  gesture  to  show  that  he  could  not  help 
himself: 

"It's  true,"  he  admitted.  "There's  an  awful  lot  to 
do.    Is  that  the  trouble  ?" 

"And  make  me  see  the  good  side  of  India." 

"Is  that  It?" 

"And  a  lot  besides." 

"Are  you  becoming  homesick?  Don't  you  care  for 
India  any  longer,  don't  you  care  for  Labuwangi,  where 
we  all  make  so  much  of  you?  .  .  .  You  misjudge 
India.    Try  to  see  the  good  side  of  it." 


198  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"I  have  tried." 

'Ts  it  no  use?" 

"No." 

"You  are  too  sensible  not  to  perceive  the  good  in  this 
country." 

"You  are  too  fond  of  It  to  be  Impartial.  And  I  don't 
know  how  to  be  impartial.  But  tell  me  the  good 
things." 

"Which  shall  I  begin  with  ?  The  satisfaction  of  being 
able,  as  an  official,  to  do  good  to  the  country  and  the 
people.  The  fine,  delightful  sense  of  working  for  this 
country  and  this  people;  the  ample  hard  work  that 
fills  a  man's  life  out  here  .  .  .  I'm  not  speaking 
of  all  the  office-work  of  your  husband,  who  is  a 
secretary.  But  I'm  speaking  of  later  on,  when  he 
becomes  an  assistant-resident !" 

"It  will  be  so  long  before  that  happens !" 

"Well,  then,  the  spacious  material  life?" 

"The  white  ants  gnaw  everything." 

"That's  a  poor  joke,  mevrouw." 

"Very  possibly,  resident.  Everything  Is  out  of  tune 
with  me,  inside  and  out:  my  wit,  my  piano  and  my 
poor  soul." 

"Nature,  then?" 

"I  don't  feel  It  all.  Nature  Is  conquering  me  and 
devouring  me." 

"Your  own  activities  ?" 

"My  activities?    One  of  the  good  things  in  India?" 

"Yes.  To  Inspire  us  material,  practical  people  with 
your  wit,  now  and  again." 

"Resident!  You're  paying  me  compliments!  Is 
this  all  on  account  of  the  theatricals  ?" 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  199 

"And  to  do  good  to  Mother  Staats  with  that  wit  of 
yours  ? 

"Couldn't  I  do  good  in  Europe  ?" 

"Certainly,    certainly,"    he    said,    bluffly.      "Go    to 

Europe,  mevrouw,  by  all  means.     Go  and  live  at  the 

Hague ;  join  the  Charity  Organization  Society     .     .     . 

with  a  collection-box  at  your  door  and  a  rijksdaaldcr 

how  often?" 

She  laughed : 

"Now  you're  becoming  unjust.  They  do  a  lot  of 
good  in  Holland  too." 

"But  do  they  ever  do  in  Holland  for  one  distressed 
person  .  .  .  what  we,  what  you  are  now  going 
to  do?  And  don't  tell  me  that  there's  less  poverty 
here." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  then,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  good  for  you 
here.  Your  special  activities.  Your  material  and 
moral  work  for  others.  Don't  let  Van  Helderen  get 
too  much  smitten  with  you,  mevrouw.  He's  a  charming 
fellow,  but  he  puts  too  much  literature  into  his  monthly 
reports.  ...  I  see  him  coming  and  I  must  be  off. 
So  I  can  rely  on  you  ?" 

"Absolutely." 

"When  shall  we  have  the  first  meeting,  with  the 
committee  and  the  ladies?" 

"To-morrow  evening,  resident,  at  your  house  ?" 

"Right  you  are.  I  shall  send  round  the  subscription- 
lists.    We  must  make  a  lot  of  money,  mevrouw." 

"We'll  do  our  best  for  Mother  Staats,"  she  said, 
gently. 

He  shook  her  hand  and  went  away.  She  felt  limp, 
she  did  not  know  why: 


200  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"The  resident  has  been  warning  me  against  you, 
because  you're  too  literary !"  she  said,  to  Van  Helderen, 
teasingly. 

She  sat  down  in  the  front-verandah.  The  skies 
burst  asunder;  a  white  curtain  of  rain  descended  in 
perpendicular  shafts  of  water.  A  plague  of  locusts 
came  hopping  along  the  verandah.  A  cloud  of  tiny 
flies  hummed  in  the  corners  like  an  Aeolian  harp.  Eva 
and  Van  Helderen  placed  their  hands  on  the  little  table 
and  it  tilted  its  leg  with  a  jerk,  while  the  beetles  buzzed 
around  them. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

The  subscription-list  went  round.  The  plays  were 
rehearsed  and  performed  in  three  weeks'  time ;  and  the 
committee  handed  the  resident  a  sum  of  nearly  fifteen 
hundred  guilders^  for  Mother  Staats.  Her  debts  were 
paid ;  a  little  house  was  rented  for  her ;  and  she  was  set 
up  in  a  small  milliner's  shop  which  Eva  stocked  from 
Paris,  All  the  ladies  in  Labuwangi  gave  Mother 
Staats  an  order;  and  in  less  than  a  month  not  only  was 
the  woman  saved  from  utter  ruin,  but  her  mode  of  life 
was  established,  her  children  were  going  to  school 
again  and  she  was  enjoying  a  pleasant  livelihood.  All 
this  had  happened  so  swiftly  and  unostentatiously:  the 
subscriptions  were  so  munificent ;  the  ladies  so  readily 
ordered  a  dress  or  a  hat  which  they  did  not  need  that 
Eva  was  astounded.  And  she  had  to  confess  to  herself 
that  the  egoism,  the  self-absorption,  the  unlovable 
qualities  which  she  often  observed  in  their  social  life — 
in  their  intercourse,  conversation,  intriguing  and  gossip 
— had  been  suddenly  thrust  into  the  background  by  a 
common  gift  for  doing  the  right  thing,  quite  simply, 
because  it  had  to  be  done,  because  there  was  no  question 
about  it,  because  the  woman  had  to  be  assisted. 
Roused  from  her  depression  by  the  bustle  of  the  re- 
hearsals, stimulated  to  brisk  action,  she  appreciated  the 
better  finer  side  of  her  environment  and  wrote  of  it  so 
enthusiastically  to  Holland  that  her  parents,  to  whom 
India  was  a  closed  book,  smiled.  But,  although  this 
episode  had  awakened  a  soft  and  gentle  and  appreci- 


202  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

ative  feeling  in  her,  it  was  only  an  episode;  and  she 
remained  the  same  when  the  emotion  of  it  was  over. 
And  notwithstanding  that  she  felt  the  disapproval  of 
Labuwangi  around  her,  she  continued  to  find  the  main 
interest  of  her  life  in  Van  Helderen's  friendship. 

For  there  was  so  little  else.  Her  little  circle  of 
adherents,  which  she  had  gathered  round  her  with  so 
many  illusions,  which  she  invited  to  dinner,  to  which 
her  doors  were  alwa5's  open:  what  did  it  actually 
amount  to  ?  She  now  accepted  the  Doom  de  Bruijns 
and  the  Rantzows  as  indifferent  acquaintances,  but  no 
longer  as  friends.  She  suspected  Mrs.  Doom  de 
Bruijn  of  insincerity;  Dr.  Rantzow  was  too  common, 
too  vulgar;  his  wife  was  an  insignificant  German 
Hans  frail.  True,  they  joined  in  the  table-turning;  but 
they  reliehed  the  absurd  ineptitudes,  the  indecent 
conversation  of  the  mocking  spirit.  She  and  Van 
Helderen  took  the  whole  thing  seriously,  though  she 
thought  the  table  rather  comical.  And  so  no  one  but 
Van  Helderen  remained  to  interest  her. 

But  Van  Oudijck  had  won  her  admiration.  She  had 
suddenly  obtained  a  glimpse  of  his  character;  and, 
though  it  entirely  lacked  the  artistic  charm  which  had 
hitherto  exclusively  attracted  her  in  men,  she  saw  the 
fine  quality  also  in  this  man,  who  was  not  at  all  artistic, 
who  had  not  the  least  conception  of  art,  but  who  had  so 
much  that  was  beautiful  in  his  simple,  manly  idea  of 
duty  and  in  the  calmness  with  which  he  endured  the 
disappointm.ent  of  his  domestic  life.  For  Eva  saw 
that,  though  he  adored  his  wife,  he  did  not  approve  of 
Leonie's  indifference  to  all  the  interests  of  which  his 
own  life  was  built  up.  If  he  saw  nothing  more,  if  he 
was  blind  to  all  the  rest  that  went  on  in  his  domestic 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  203 

circle,  this  disappointment  was  his  secret  pain,  to  which 
he  was  not  Wind,  deep  down  in  himself. 

And  she  admired  him;  and  her  admiration  was  as 
it  were  a  revelation  that  art  does  not  always  stand 
highest  in  the  affairs  of  this  life.  She  suddenly  under- 
stood that  the  exaggerated  importance  attaching  to  art 
in  our  time  was  a  disease  from  which  she  had  suffered 
and  was  still  suffering.  For  what  was  she,  what  did 
she  do?  Nothing.  Her  parents,  both  of  them,  were 
great  artists,  true  artists;  and  their  house  was  like  a 
temple  and  their  bias  was  comprehensible  and  pardon- 
able. But  what  of  her?  She  played  the  piano  pretty 
well ;  and  that  was  all.  She  had  a  few  ideas,  a  little 
taste ;  and  that  was  all.  But  in  her  time  she  had  gushed 
with  other  girls;  and  she  now  remembered  all  that 
foolish  gushing,  that  trick  of  exchanging  letters 
crammed  with  cheap  philosophy  and  written  in  a 
modern  style  distantly  aping  that  of  Kloos  and  Gorter.* 
And  thus,  for  all  her  depression,  her  meditation 
carried  her  a  stage  further  and  she  underwent  a  certain 
development.  For  it  seemed  incredible  that  she,  the 
child  of  her  parents,  should  not  always  place  art  above 
everything  else. 

And  she  had  in  her  that  play  and  counterplay  of 
seeking  and  thinking  in  order  to  find  her  way,  now  that 
she  was  quite  lost  in  a  country  alien  to  her  nature, 
among  people  upon  whom  she  looked  down,  without 
letting  them  perceive  it.  She  strove  to  find  the  good 
in  the  country,  in  order  to  make  It  her  owti  and  cherish 
it;  she  was  glad  to  find  among  the  people  those  few 
who  roused  her  sympathy  and  her  admiration;  but  the 
good    remained    incidental    to   her,    the    few   people 

*  Two  modern  Dutch  poets. 


204  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

remained  exceptional ;  and,  despite  all  her  seeking  and 
thinking,  she  did  not  find  her  way  and  retained  the 
moodiness  of  a  woman  who  was  too  European,  too 
artistic,  notwithstanding  her  self-knowledge  and  conse- 
quent denial  of  her  artistic  capacity  to  live  quietly  and 
contentedly  in  an  up-country  Javanese  town,  beside  a 
husband  wrapped  up  in  his  office-work,  in  a  climate 
that  upset  her  health,  amid  natural  surroundings  that 
overwhelmed  her  and  among  people  whom  she  disliked. 

And,  in  the  most  lucid  moments  of  this  play  and 
counterplay,  it  was  the  obvious  fear,  the  fear  which 
she  felt  most  definitely  of  all,  the  fear  which  she  felt 
slowly  approaching,  she  knew  not  whence,  she  knew 
not  whither,  but  hovering  over  her  head,  as  with  the 
thousand  veils  of  a  fate  gliding  through  the  sultry, 
rain-laden  skies.     .     .     . 

In  these  inharmonious  moods  she  had  refrained 
from  gathering  her  little  clique  around  her,  for  she 
herself  did  not  care  to  take  the  trouble  and  her  friends 
did  not  understand  her  well  enough  to  look  her  up. 
They  missed  the  cheerfulness  in  her  which  had  at- 
tracted them  at  first.  Envy  and  hostility  were  now 
given  more  rein ;  and  people  began  to  speak  freely  of 
her;  she  was  affected,  pedantic,  vain,  proud;  she  had 
the  pretension  always  to  want  to  be  the  first  in  the 
town;  she  behaved  just  as  though  she  were  the  resi- 
dent's wife  and  ordered  every  one  about.  She  was  not 
really  pretty,  she  had  an  impossible  way  of  dressing, 
her  house  was  preposterously  arranged.  And  then  her 
relations  with  Van  Helderen,  their  evening  walks  to 
the  light-house !  Ida  heard  about  it  at  Tosari,  amid 
the  band  of  gossips  at  the  small,  poky  hotel,  where  the 
visitors  are  bored  when  they  are  not  going  on  ex- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  205 

cursions  and  therefore  sit  about  in  their  poky  little 
verandahs,  almost  in  one  another's  pockets,  peeping 
into  one  another's  rooms,  listening  at  the  thin  parti- 
tions ;  Ida  heard  about  it  at  Tosari  and  it  was  enough 
to  rouse  the  little  Indian  woman's  whitQ-iionna  in- 
stincts and  induce  her  suddenl}',  without  stating  any 
cause,  to  remove  her  children  from  Eva's  charge.  Van 
Helderen,  when  he  went  up  for  the  week-end  asked  his 
wife  for  an  explanation,  asked  her  v/hy  she  insulted 
Eva  by  taking  the  children  away,  without  a  reason,  and 
having  them  up  in  the  hills,  thus  greatly  increasing  the 
hotel-bills.  Ida  made  a  scene,  talking  loudly,  with 
hysterics  which  rang  through  the  little  hotel,  made  all 
the  visitors  prick  up  their  ears,  and,  like  a  gale  of  wind, 
whipped  the  cackling  chatter  into  a  storm.  And,  with- 
out further  explanation,  Ida  broke  with  Eva. 

Eva  withdrew  into  herself.  Even  in  Surabaya, 
where  she  went  to  do  some  shopping,  she  heard  the 
scandalous  chatter;  and  she  became  so  sick  of  her 
world  and  her  people  that  she  silently  shrank  back  into 
herself.  She  wrote  to  Van  Helderen  not  to  call  any 
more.  She  entreated  him  to  become  reconciled  with 
his  wife.  She  gave  up  seeing  him.  And  she  was  now 
all  alone.  She  felt  that  she  was  not  in  the  mood  to  find 
comfort  in  any  one  around  her.  There  was  no  sympa- 
thy and  no  understanding  in  India  for  such  moods  as 
hers.  And  so  she  shut  herself  up.  Her  husband  was 
working  hard,  as  usual.  But  she  devoted  herself  more 
zealously  to  her  little  boy,  she  immersed  herself  in  her 
love  for  her  child.  She  withdrew  herself  into  her  love 
for  her  house.  Well,  this  was  the  life  of  never  going 
out,  of  never  seeing  any  one,  of  never  hearing  any 
other  music  than  her  own.     This  was  seeking  comfort 


206  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

in  her  house,  her  child  and  her  books.  This  was  the 
personality  that  she  had  become  after  her  early  illusions 
and  strivings.  She  now  constantly  felt  the  longing  for 
Europe,  for  Holland,  for  her  parents,  for  people  of 
artistic  culture.  And  now  it  developed  into  hatred  for 
the  country-  which  she  had  at  first  seen  in  the  over- 
whelming grandeur  of  its  beauty,  with  its  majestic 
mountains  and  the  softly-creeping  mystery  that  lurked 
in  nature  and  humanity.  Now  she  hated  nature  and 
humanity ;  and  their  mystery  terrified  her. 

She  now  filled  her  life  with  thoughts  of  her  child. 
Her  boy,  little  Otto,  was  three  years  old.  She  would 
guide  him,  make  a  man  of  him.  From  the  day  of  his 
birth  she  had  had  vague  illusions  of  later  seeing  her 
son  a  great  artist,  by  preference  a  great  writer,  famous 
throughout  the  world.  But  she  had  learnt  much  since 
then.  She  felt  that  art  does  not  always  stand  supreme. 
She  felt  that  there  are  higher  things,  which  sometimes, 
in  her  dejection,  she  denied,  but  which  were  there 
nevertheless,  radiant  and  great.  These  things  had  to 
do  with  the  shaping  of  the  future ;  these  things  had  to 
do,  above  all,  with  peace,  justice  and  brotherhood.  Oh, 
the  great  brotherhood  of  the  poor  and  the  rich !  Now, 
in  her  loneliness,  she  contemplated  this  as  the  highest 
ideal  at  which  one  can  work,  as  sculptors  work  on  a 
monument.  Justice  and  peace  would  follow.  But 
human  brotherhood  must  be  aimed  at  first;  and  she 
wished  her  son  to  work  at  it.  Where?  In  Europe? 
In  India?  She  did  not  know;  she  did  not  see  it  before 
her.  She  saw  it  in  Europe  rather  than  in  India,  the 
inexplicable,  the  enigmatical,  the  fearful  remained  in 
the  foreground  of  her  thoughts.  How  strange  it  was, 
how  strange!     .     .     . 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  207 

She  was  a  woman  made  for  ideals.  Perhaps  this  by 
itself  was  the  simple  explanation  of  what  she  felt  and 
feared     ...     in  India.     ,     .     . 

"Your  impressions  of  India  are  altogether  mis- 
taken," her  husband  would  say.  "You  see  India  quite 
wrongly.  Quiet?  You  think  it's  quiet  here?  Why 
should  I  have  to  work  so  hard,  in  India,  if  things  were 
quiet  at  Labuwangi  ?  .  .  .  We  have  hundreds  of 
interests  at  heart,  of  Europeans  and  Javanese  alike. 
Agriculture  is  studied  as  eagerly  in  this  country  as 
anywhere.  The  population  is  increasing  steadily. 
.  .  .  Declining  ?  A  colony  in  which  there  is  always 
so  much  going  on?  That's  one  of  Van  Helderen's 
imbecile  ideas.  Speculative  ideas,  mere  vapourings, 
which  you  just  echo  after  him.  ...  I  can't 
understand  the  way  in  which  you  regard  India  nowa- 
days. .  .  .  There  was  a  time  when  you  had  eyes 
for  all  that  was  beautiful  and  interesting  here.  That 
time  seems  to  be  past.  You  ought  to  go  home  for  a  bit, 
really.     .     .     ." 

But  she  knew  that  he  would  be  very  lonely  without 
her;  and  for  this  reason  she  refused  to  go.  Later, 
when  her  boy  was  older,  she  would  have  to  go  to 
Holland.  But  by  then  Eldersma  would  certainly  have 
become  an  assistant-resident.  At  present  he  still  had 
seventeen  controllers  and  secretaries  above  him.  It 
had  been  going  on  like  this  for  years,  that  looking 
towards  promotion  in  the  distant  future.  It  was  like 
yearning  after  a  mirage.  Of  ever  becoming  a  resident 
he  did  not  so  much  as  think.  Assistant-resident  for  a 
couple  of  years  or  so;  and  then  to  Holland,  on  a 
pension.     .     .     . 


208  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

She  thought  it  a  heart-breaking  existence,  slaving 
one's  self  to  death  like  that  .  .  .  for  Labu- 
wangi!     .     .     . 

She  was  down  with  malaria:  and  her  maid,  Saina, 
was  giving  her  massage,  kneading  her  aching  limbs 
with  supple  fingers. 

"It's  a  nuisance,  Saina,  when  I'm  ill,  for  you  to  be 
living  in  the  compound.  You'd  better  move  into  the 
house  this  evening  with  your  four  children." 

Saina  thought  it  troublesome,  a  great  susa} 

"Why?" 

And  the  woman  explained.  Her  cottage  had  been 
left  to  her  by  her  husband.  She  was  attached  to  it, 
though  it  was  in  an  utterly  dilapidated  condition. 
Now  that  the  rainy  monsoon  was  on,  the  rain  often 
came  in  through  the  roof ;  and  then  she  was  unable  to 
cook  and  the  children  had  to  go  without  their  food. 
To  have  it  repaired  was  difficult.  She  had  a  ring  git' 
a  week  from  the  njonja}  Sixty  cents  of  that  went  on 
rice.  Then  there  were  a  few  cents  daily  for  fish,  coco- 
nut oil,  sirih;  a  few  cents  for  fuel.  .  .  .  No, 
repairs  were  out  of  the  question.  She  would  be  much 
better  off  with  the  kandjeng  njonja,  much  better  off  on 
the  estate.  But  it  would  be  a  siisa  to  find  a  tenant  for 
the  cottage,  because  it  was  so  dilapidated;  and  the 
njonja  knew  that  no  house  was  allowed  to  remain 
imoccupied  in  the  compound:  there  was  a  heavy  fine 
attached  to  that.  ...  So  she  would  rather  go  on 
living  in  her  damp  cottage.  She  could  easily  stay  and 
sit  up  with  the  njonja  at  night ;  her  eldest  girl  would 
look  after  the  little  ones. 

*  Fuss,  trouble. 

^  Rijksdaaldcr,  dollar,  4s.  2d. 

^  Mistress,  mem-sahib. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  209 

And,  resigned  to  her  small  existence  of  little  miseries, 
Saina  passed  her  supple  fingers,  with  a  firm,  gentle 
pressure,  over  her  mistress'  ailing  limbs. 

And  Eva  thought  it  heart-rending,  this  living  on  a 
rijksdaalder  a  week,  with  four  children,  in  a  house 
which  let  in  the  rain,  so  that  it  was  impossible  to  cook 
there. 

"Let  me  look  after  your  second  little  daughter, 
Saina,"  said  Eva,  a  day  or  two  after. 

Saina  hesitated,  smiled:  she  would  rather  not,  but 
dared  not  say  so. 

"Yes,"  Eva  insisted,  "let  her  come  to  me:  you  will 
see  her  all  day  long;  she  will  sleep  in  kokkie's  room;  I 
shall  provide  her  clothes ;  and  she  will  have  nothing  to 
do  but  to  see  that  my  room  is  kept  tidy.  You  can  teach 
her  that." 

"So  young  still,  'nja;  only  just  ten." 

"No,  no,"  Eva  insisted.  "Let  me  do  this  to  help  you. 
What's  her  name  ?" 

"Mina,  'nja" 

"Mina?  That  won't  do,"  said  Eva.  "That's  the 
dj ait's  name.    We'll  find  another  for  her." 

Saina  brought  the  child,  looking  very  shy,  with  a 
streak  of  hedak  on  her  forehead ;  and  Eva  dressed  her 
prettily.  She  was  a  very  attractive  little  child,  with  a 
soft  brown  skin  covered  with  a  downy  bloom,  and 
looked  charming  in  her  new  clothes.  She  sedulously 
piled  the  sarongs  in  the  clothes-press,  with  fragrant 
white  flowers  between  the  layers:  the  flowers  were 
changed  for  fresh  one's  daily.  For  a  joke,  because  she 
arranged  the  flowers  so  prettily,  Eva  called  her  Melati.^ 

^A  white,  East-Indian,  jasmine-scented  flower. 


210  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

Two  days  later,  Saina  crouched  down  before  her 
njonja. 

"What  is  it,  Saina?" 

Might  the  little  girl  come  back  to  the  damp  cottage  in 
the  compound?  Saina  asked. 

"Why?"  asked  Eva,  in  amazement.  "Isn't  your 
little  girl  happy  here?" 

Yes,  she  was,  said  Saina,  bashfully,  but  she  pre- 
ferred the  cottage.  The  njonja  was  very  kind,  but 
little  Mina  would  rather  be  in  the  cottage. 

Eva  was  angry  and  let  the  child  go  home,  with  the 
new  clothes  which  Saina  took  away  with  her  as  a 
matter  of  course. 

"Why  wasn't  the  child  allowed  to  stay?"  Eva  asked 
of  the  latta  cook, 

Kokkie  at  first  dared  not  say. 

"Come,  why  wasn't  she,  kokkie?"  asked  Eva,  insist- 
ing. 

"Because  the  karidjcng  called  the  little  girl  Melati. 
.  .  .  Names  of  flowers  and  fruits  .  .  .  are 
given  only  ...  to  dancing-girls,"  explained  the 
kokkie,  as  though  expounding  a  mystery. 

"But  why  didn't  Saina  tell  me  ?"  asked  Eva,  greatly 
incensed.    "I  had  not  the  least  idea  of  that !" 

"Too  shy,"  said  the  kokkie,  by  way  of  excusing 
Saina.    *'Minta  ampon,  'nja/'^ 

These  were  trivial  incidents  In  the  daily  domestic 
life,  little  episodes  of  her  housekeeping;  but  they  made 
her  feel  sore,  because  she  felt  behind  them  as  it  were  a 
wall  that  always  existed  between  her  and  the  people 
and  things  of  India.  She  did  not  know  the  country, 
she  would  never  know  the  people. 

^  "Beg  pardon,  ma'am." 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  211 

And  the  minor  disappointment  of  the  episodes  filled 
her  with  the  same  soreness  as  the  greater  disappoint- 
ment of  her  illusions,  because  her  life,  amid  the  daily- 
trivialities  of  her  housekeeping,  was  itself  becoming 
more  and  more  trivial. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

The  early  hours  of  the  day  were  often  cool,  washed 
clean  by  the  abundant  rains ;  and  in  the  young  sunshine 
of  those  morning  hours  the  earth  emitted  a  tender 
haze,  a  blue  softening  of  every  hard  line  and  colour, 
so  that  the  Lange  Laan,  with  its  villa  residences  and 
fenced  gardens  seemed  to  be  surrounded  with  the 
vagueness  and  beauty  of  a  dream-avenue:  the  dream- 
columns  rose  insubstantially,  like  a  vision  of  pillared 
tranquillity ;  the  lines  of  the  roofs  acquired  distinction 
in  their  indefiniteness ;  the  hues  of  the  trees  and  the 
outlines  of  their  leafy  tops  were  etherealized  into 
tender  pastels  of  misty  rose  and  even  mistier  blue,  with 
a  single  brighter  gleam  of  morning  yellow  and  a  distant 
parple  streak  of  dawn.  And  over  all  this  morning 
world  fell  a  cool  dew,  like  a  fountain  that  rose  from 
that  drenched  ground  and  fell  back  in  pearly  drops  in 
the  childlike  gentleness  of  the  first  sunbeams.  It  was 
as  though  every  morning  the  earth  and  her  people  were 
newly  created,  as  though  mankind  were  newly  born  to 
a  youth  of  innocence  and  paradisal  unconsciousness. 
But  the  illusion  of  the  dawn  lasted  but  a  minute,  barely 
a  few  moments:  the  sun,  rising  higher  in  the  sky, 
shone  forth  from  the  virginal  mist;  boastfully  it  un- 
furled its  proud  halo  of  piercing  rays,  pouring  down 
its  burning  gold,  full  of  godlike  pride  because  it  was 
reigning  over  its  brief  moment  of  the  day,  for  the 
clouds  were  already  mustering,  greyly  advancing,  like 
battle-hordes  of  dark  phantoms,  pressing  eerily 
onwards:     deep    bluish-black    and    heavy    lead-grey 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  213 

phantoms,  overmastering  the  sun  and  crushing  the 
earth  under  white  torrents  of  rain.  And  the  evening 
twihght,  short  and  hurried,  letting  fall  veil  upon  veil 
of  crape,  was  like  an  overwhelming  melancholy  of 
earth,  nature  and  life,  in  which  they  forgot  that  para- 
disal  moment  of  the  morning;  the  white  rain  rustled 
down  like  an  inundating  tide  of  melancholy ;  the  road 
and  gardens  were  dripping,  drinking  up  the  falling 
torrents  until  they  shone  like  marshy  pools  and  flooded 
meadows  in  the  dusky  evening;  a  chill,  spectral  mist 
rose  on  high  with  a  slow  movement  as  of  ghostly 
draperies,  which  hovered  over  the  pools ;  and  the  chilly 
houses,  scantily  lit  with  their  smoking  lamps,  round 
which  clouds  of  insects  swarmed,  falling  on  every 
hand  and  dying  with  singed  wings,  became  filled  with 
a  yet  chillier  sadness,  an  overshadowing  fear  of  the 
menacing  world  out  of  doors,  of  the  all-powerful 
cloud-hordes,  of  the  boundless  immensity  that  came 
whispering  on  the  gusty  winds  from  the  far-off  un- 
known, high  as  the  heavens,  wide  as  the  firmament, 
against  which  the  open  houses  appeared  unprotected, 
while  the  inmates  were  small  and  petty,  for  all  their 
civilization  and  science  and  soulful  feelings,  small  as 
wriggling  insects,  insignificant,  abandoned  to  the  play 
of  the  giant  mysteries  blowing  up  from  the  distance. 

Leonie  van  Oudijck,  in  the  half-lit  back-verandah  of 
the  residency,  was  talking  to  Theo  in  a  soft  voice:  and 
Oorip  squatted  beside  her. 

"It's  nonsense,  Oorip !"  she  cried,  peevishly. 

"Really  not,  kandjcng"  said  the  maid.  "It's  not 
nonsense.     I  hear  them  every  evening.'* 

"Where?"  asked  Theo. 


214  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"In  the  warlngin-tree  behind  the  house,  high  up,  in 
the  top  branches." 

"It's  Luaks/'^  said  Theo. 

"It's  not  liiaks,  tiimi,"^^  the  maid  insisted.  "Massa!^ 
As  if  Oorip  didn't  know  how  wild  cats  mew!  Kriow, 
kriow:  that's  how  they  go.  What  we  hear  every  night 
is  the  pontianaks.^  It's  the  Httle  children  crying  in  the 
trees.  The  souls  of  the  little  children,  crying  in  the 
trees." 

"It's  the  wind,  Oorip." 

"Massa,  kandjeng,  as  if  Oorip  couldn't  hear  the 
wind !  Boo-ooh :  that's  how  the  wind  goes ;  and  then 
the  branches  move.  But  this  is  the  little  children, 
moaning  in  the  top  boughs;  and  the  branches  don't 
move  them.    This  is  tjelaka,*"  kandjeng." 

"And  why  should  it  be  tjelakaf" 

"Oorip  knows  but  dares  not  tell.  Tentuf  the  kand- 
jeng will  be  angry." 

"Come,  Oorip,  tell  me." 

"It's  because  of  the  kandjeng  tiian,  the  kandjeng 
residen." 

"Why?" 

"The  other  day  with  the  passer  malan  in  the  aloon- 
aloon  and  the  passer-malam  for  the  orang-hlanda,^  in 
the  kebon-kotta."'^ 

^Wild  cats. 

^^  Madam. 

'  "Come,  come !" 

'  Ghosts. 

■"A  bad  omen. 

"To  a  certainty,  beyond  a  doubt. 

*  White  people. 

'Village  garden,  horticultural  garden. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  215 

"Well,  what  about  it?" 

"The  day  wasn't  well-chosen,  according  to  the 
petangans.  It  was  an  unlucky  day.  .  .  .  And  with 
the  new  well     ..." 

"What  about  the  new  well  ?" 

"There  was  no  sedcka}  So  no  one  uses  the  new 
well.  Every  one  fetches  water  from  the  old  well.  . 
.  .  The  water's  not  good  either.  For  from  the  new 
well  the  woman  rises  with  the  bleeding  hole  in  her 
breast.     .     .     .     And  Miss  Doddie     .     .     ." 

"What  of  her?" 

"Miss  Doddie  has  seen  the  white  hadji  going  by! 
The  white  hadji  is  not  a  good  hadji.     He's  a  ghost. 

.  .  Miss  Doddie  saw  him  twice:  at  Patjaram  and 
here.     .     .     .     Listen,  kandjcng!" 

"What?" 

"Don't  you  hear?  The  children's  little  souls  are 
moaning  in  the  top  boughs.  There's  no  wind  blowing 
at  this  moment.  Listen,  listen:  That's  not /^a/j.?.'  The 
liiaks  go  kriow,  kriow,  when  they're  courting !  These 
are  the  little  souls!" 

They  all  three  listened.  Leonie  mechanically  pressed 
closer  to  Theo.  She  looked  deathly  pale.  The  roomy 
back-verandah,  with  the  table  always  laid,  stretched 
away  in  the  dim  light  of  a  single  hanging  lamp.  The 
half-swamped  back-garden  gleamed  wet  out  of  the 
darkness  of  the  waringins,  full  of  pattering  drops  but 
motionless  in  the  impenetrable  masses  of  their  velvety 
foliage.  And  an  inexplicable,  almost  imperceptible 
crooning,  like  a  gentle  mystery  of  little  tormented 
souls,  whimpered  high  above  their  heads,  as  though  in 
the  sky  or  in  the  topmost  branches  of  the  trees.    Now 

*  Sacrifice,  offering. 


216  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

it  was  a  short  cry,  then  a  moan  as  of  a  little  sick  child, 
then  a  soft  sobbing  as  of  little  girl-children  in  misery. 

"What  sort  of  animal  can  it  be?"  asked  Theo.     "Is 
it  birds  or  insects?" 

The  moaning  and  sobbing  was  very  distinct.    Leonie 
looked  white  as  a  sheet  and  was  trembling  all  over. 

"Don't  be  so  frightened,"  said  Theo.  "Of  course 
it's  animals." 

But  he  himself  was  white  as  chalk  with  fear;  and, 
when  they  looked  each  other  in  the  eyes,  she  understood 
that  he  too  was  afraid.  She  clutched  his  arm,  nestled 
up  against  him.  The  maid  squatted  low,  humbly,  as 
though  accepting  all  fate  as  an  impenetrable  mystery. 
She  did  not  wish  to  run  away.  But  the  eyes  of  the 
white  man  and  woman  held  only  one  idea,  the  idea  of 
escaping.  Suddenly,  both  of  them,  the  step-mother 
and  the  step-son,  who  were  bringing  shame  upon  the 
house,  were  afraid,  as  with  a  single  fear,  afraid  as  of  a 
threatening  punishment.  They  did  not  speak,  they  said 
nothing  to  each  other;  they  leant  against  each  other, 
understanding  each  other's  trembling,  two  white 
children  of  this  mysterious  Indian  soil,  who  from  their 
childhood  had  breathed  the  mystic  air  of  Java  and  had 
unconsciously  heard  the  vague,  stealthily  approaching 
mystery  as  an  accustomed  music,  a  music  which  they 
had  not  noticed,  as  though  mystery  were  an  accustomed 
thing.  As  they  stood  thus,  trembling  and  looking  at 
each  other,  the  wind  rose,  bearing  away  with  it  the 
secret  of  the  tiny  souls,  bearing  away  with  it  the  little 
souls  themselves:  the  interlacing  branches  swayed 
angrily  and  the  rain  began  to  fall  once  more.  A  shud- 
dering chill  came  fanning  up,  filling  the  house ;  a  sud- 
den draught  blew  out  the  lamp.    And  they  remained  in 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  217 

the  dark,  a  little  longer,  she,  despite  the  openness  of 
the  verandah,  almost  in  the  arms  of  her  step-son  and 
lover ;  the  maid  crouching  at  their  feet.  But  then  she 
flung  off  his  arm,  flung  off  the  black  oppression  of 
darkness  and  fear,  filled  with  the  rustling  of  the  rain ; 
the  wind  was  cold  and  shivery  and  she  staggered  in- 
doors, on  the  verge  of  fainting.  Theo  and  Oorip 
followed  her.  The  middle  gallery  was  lighted.  Van 
Oudijck's  office  was  open.  He  was  working.  Leonie 
stood  irresolute,  with  Theo,  not  knowing  what  to  do. 
The  maid  disappeared,  muttering.  It  was  then  that 
she  heard  a  whizzing  sound  and  a  small  round  stone 
flew  through  the  gallery,  fell  somewhere  near  at  hand. 
She  gave  a  cry ;  and,  behind  the  screen  which  divided 
the  gallery  from  the  office  where  Van  Oudijck  sat  at 
his  writing-table,  she  flung  herself  once  more  into 
Theo's  arms,  abandoning  all  her  caution.  They  stood 
shivering  in  each  other's  arms.  Van  Oudijck  had 
heard  her:  he  stood  up,  came  from  behind  the  screen. 
His  eyes  blinked,  as  though  tired  with  working, 
Leonie  and  Theo  had  recovered  themselves, 

"What  is  it,  Leonie?" 

"Nothing,"  she  said,  not  daring  to  tell  him  of  the 
little  souls  or  of  the  stone,  afraid  of  the  threatening 
punishment. 

She  and  Theo  stood  there  like  criminals,  both  of 
them  white  and  trembling.  Van  Oudijck,  his  mind 
still  on  his  work,  did  not  notice  anything. 

"Nothing,"  she  repeated.  "The  mat  is  frayed  and 
and  I  nearly  stumbled.  But  there  was  some- 
thing I  wanted  to  tell  you.  Otto." 

Her  voice  shook,  but  he  did  not  hear  it,  blind  to 
what  she  did,  deaf  to  what  she  said,  still  absorbed  in 
his  papers. 


218  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"What's  that?" 

"Oorip  has  suggested  that  the  servants  would  hke 
to  have  a  sedeka,  because  a  new  well  has  been  built  in 
the  grounds     .      .      ." 

"That  well  which  is  two  months  old?" 

"They  don't  make  use  of  the  water." 

"Why  not?" 

"They  are  superstitious,  you  know;  they  refuse  to 
use  the  water  before  the  scdcka  has  been  given." 

"Then  it  ought  to  have  been  done  at  once.  Wliy 
didn't  they  tell  Kario  at  once  to  ask  me?  I  can't  think 
of  all  that  nonsense  myself.  But  I  would  have  given 
them  the  sedeka  then.  Now  it's  like  mustard  after 
meat.    The  well  is  two  months  old." 

"It  would  be  a  good  thing  all  the  same,  Papa,"  said 
Theo.  "You  know  what  the  Javanese  are  like:  they 
won't  use  the  well  as  long  as  they've  not  had  a 
sedeka." 

"No,"  said  Van  Oudijck,  imwillingly,  shaking  his 
head.  "To  give  a  sedeka  now  would  have  no  sense  in 
it.  I  would  have  done  so  gladly;  but  now,  after  two 
months,  it  would  be  absurd.  They  ought  to  have  asked 
for  it  at  once." 

"Do,  Otto,"  Leonie  entreated.  "I  should  give  them 
the  sedeka.    You'll  please  me  if  you  do." 

"Mamma  half  promised  Oorip,"  Theo  insisted 
gently. 

They  stood  trembling  before  him,  white  in  the  face, 
like  petitioners.  But  he,  weary  and  thinking  of  his 
papers,  was  seized  with  a  stubborn  unwillingness, 
though  he  was  seldom  able  to  refuse  his  wife  anything. 

"No,  Leonie,"  he  said,  decidedly.  "And  you  must 
never  promise  things  of  which  you're  not  certain." 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  219 

He  turned  away,  went  round  the  screen  and  sat 
down  to  his  work. 

They  looked  at  each  other,  the  mother  and  the  step- 
son. Slowly,  aimlessly,  they  moved  away,  to  the 
front-verandah,  where  a  moist,  dripping  darkness 
drifted  between  the  stately  pillars.  They  saw  a  white 
form  coming  through  the  swamped  garden.  They 
started,  for  they  were  now  afraid  of  everything, 
thinking  at  the  sight  of  every  figure  of  the  chastise- 
ment that  would  overtake  them  like  a  strange  thing,  so 
long  as  they  remained  in  the  paternal  house  which 
they  had  covered  with  shame.  But,  when  they  looked 
more  closely,  they  saw  it  was  Doddie.  She  had  come 
home;  she  said,  trembling,  that  she  had  been  at  Eva 
Eldersma's.  Actually  she  had  been  walking  with 
Addie  de  Luce;  and  they  had  sheltered  from  the  rain 
in  the  compound.  She  was  very  pale,  she  was  trem- 
bling; but  Leonie  and  Theo  did  not  notice  it  in  the 
dark  verandah,  even  as  she  herself  did  not  see  that 
her  step-mother  and  Theo  were  pale.  She  was 
trembling  like  that  because  in  the  garden — Addie  had 
brought  her  to  the  gate — stones  had  been  thrown  at 
her.  It  must  have  been  some  impudent  Javanese,  who 
hated  her  father  and  his  house  and  his  household ;  but, 
in  the  dark  verandah,  where  she  saw  her  step-mother 
and  her  brother  sitting  side  by  side  in  silence,  as 
though  in  despair,  she  suddenly  felt,  she  did  not  know 
why,  that  it  was  not  an  impudent  Javanese. 

She  sat  down  by  them,  silently.  They  looked  out 
at  the  damp,  dark  garden,  over  which  the  spacious 
night  was  hovering  as  orr  the  wings  of  a  gigantic  bat. 
And  in  the  mute  melancholy  which  drifted  like  a  grey 
twilight  between  the  stately  white  pillars,  all  three  of 


220  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

them — Doddle  singly,  but  the  step-mother  and  step-son 
together — felt  frightened  to  death  and  crushed  by  the 
strange  thing  that  was  about  to  befall  them.     .     .     . 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

And,  despite  their  anxiety,  the  two  sought  each 
other  all  the  oftener,  feehng  themselves  now  bound  by 
indissoluble  bonds.  In  the  afternoon  he  would  steal 
to  her  room ;  and,  despite  their  anxiety,  they  lost  them- 
selves in  wild  embraces  and  then  remained  close  to- 
gether. 

"It  must  be  nonsense,  Leonie,"  he  whispered. 

"Yes,  but  then  what  is  it?"  she  murmured  in  re- 
turn. "After  all,  I  heard  the  moaning  and  heard  the 
stone  whizz  through  the  air." 

"And  then?" 

"What?" 

"If  it  is  something  .  .  .  suppose  it  is  some- 
thing that  we  can't  explain." 

"But  I  don't  believe  in  it!" 

"Nor  I.      .      .      .     Only     ..." 

"What?" 

"If  it's  something  .  ,  .  if  it's  something  that 
we  can't  explain,  then      .      .      ." 

"Then  what?" 

"Then  .  .  .  it's  not  because  of  lis!"  he  whis- 
pered, almost  inaudibly.  "Why,  Oorip  said  so  her- 
self!    It's  because  of  papa!" 

"Oh,  but  it's  too  silly!" 

"I  don't  believe  in  that  nonsense  either." 

"The  moaning     ...     of  those  animals." 

"And  that  stone  .  .  .  must  have  been  thrown 
by  some  wretched  fellow  .  .  .  one  of  the  serv- 
ants, a  beggar  who  is  putting  himself  forward 
.     .     .     or  who  has  been  bribed.     .     ,     ." 


222  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 


"Bribed?     .      .      .     By  whom?" 
"By     ...     by  the  regent,      .      .      ," 
"Why,  Theo!" 

"Oorip  said  the  moaning  came  from  the  Kabupa- 
ten     .      .      ." 

'What  do  you  mean  ?" 

*And  that  they  wanted  to  torment  papa  from  there 


"To  torment  him  ?" 

"Because  the  Regent  of  Ngadjiwa  has  been  dis- 
eu  " 


missed. 

'Does  Oorip  say  that?" 

"No,  I  do.  Oorip  said  that  the  regent  had  occult 
powers.  That's  nonsense,  of  course.  The  fellow's  a 
scoundrel.  He  has  bribed  people  ...  to  worry 
papa." 

"But  papa  notices  none  of  it.     .     .     ." 

"No.  .  .  ,  We  mustn't  tell  him  either.  .  .  . 
That's  the  best  thing  to  do.  .  .  .  We  must  ignore 
it." 

"And  the  white  hadji,  Theo,  whom  Doddie  saw 
twice.  .  .  .  And,  when  they  do  table-turning 
at  Van  Helderen's,  Ida  sees  him  too.       .      .      . " 

"Oh,  another  tool  of  the  regent's,  of  course !" 

"Ves,  I  expect  that's  true.  .  .  .  But  it's 
wretched  all  the  same,  Theo.  .  .  .  My  own 
Theo,  I'm  so  frightened !" 

"Of  that  nonsense  ?    Come,  come !" 

"If  it's  anything,  Theo  ...  it  has  nothing 
to  do  with  its,  you  say  ?" 

He  laughed: 

"What  next?  What  could  it  have  to  do  with  us? 
I    tell    you,    it's    a   practical    joke    of   the   regent's. 


9» 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  223 

"We  oughtn't  to  be  together  any  more." 
"No,  no,  I  love  you,,  I'm  mad  with  love  for  you !" 
He  kissed  her  fiercely.    They  were  both  afraid.    But 
he  rallied  Leonie: 

"Come,  Leonie,  don't  be  so  superstitious." 
"When  I  was  a  child,  my  babu  told  me      .      .      ." 
She  whispered  a  story  in  his  ear.     He  turned  pale: 
"Leonie,  what  rot!" 

"Strange  things  happen  here,  in  India. 
If  they  bury  something  belonging  to  you,  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  or  a  lock  of  hair,  they  are  able — simply 
by  witchcraft — to  make  you  fall  ill  and  pine  away  and 
die     ,     .     .     and  not  a  doctor  can  tell  what  the  ill- 
ness is.     .     .     ." 
"That's  rubbish!" 
"It's  really  true!" 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  so  superstitious !" 
"I  used  never  to  think  of  it.    I've  begun  to  think  of 
it  just  lately.      .      .      .     Theo,    can    there    be    any- 
thing?" 

"There's  nothing  .  .  .  but  kissing." 
"No,  Theo,  don't,  be  quiet,  I'm  frightened.  .  .  . 
It's  quite  late.  It  gets  dark  so  quickly.  Papa  has 
finished  his  sleep,  Theo.  Go  away  now,  Theo 
.  .  .  through  the  boudoir.  I  want  to  take  my 
bath  quickly.  I'm  frightened  nowadays  when  it  gets 
dark.  There's  no  twilight,  with  the  rains.  The  even- 
ings come  all  of  a  sudden.  .  .  .  The  other  day, 
I  had  not  told  them  to  bring  a  light  into  the  bathroom 
and  already  it  was  so  dark  ...  at 
only  half  past  five  .  .  .  and  two  bats  were  fly- 
ing all  over  the  place:  I  was  so  afraid  that  they  would 
catch  in  my  hair.      .      .      .     Hush!     Is  that  papa?" 


224  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"No,  it's  Doddie:  she's  playing  with  her  cockatoo." 

"Go  now,  Theo." 

He  went  through  the  boudoir,  and  wandered  into  the 
garden.  She  got  up,  flung  a  kimono  over  the  sarong 
which  she  had  knotted  loosely  under  her  arms  and 
called  Oorip: 

"Bawa  harang  mandi!"^ 

"Kandjeng!" 

"Where  are  you,  Oorip?" 

"Here,  kandjeng." 

"Where  were  you?" 

"Here,  outside  the  garden-door,  kandjeng.  .  .  . 
I  was  waiting,"  said  the  girl,  meaningly,  implying  that 
she  was  waiting  until  Theo  had  gone. 

"Is  the  kandjeng  tuan  up?" 

"Suda     .      .      .     had  his  bath,  kandjeng/* 

"Then    fetch   the    things    for    my   bath. 
Light  the  little  lamp  in  the  bathroom.      .      .      .     Yes- 
terday evening  the  glass  was  broken  and  the  lamp  was 
not  filled.      .      .      ." 

"The  kandjeng  never  used  to  have  the  lamp  lit  In 
the  bathroom." 

"Oorip  .  .  .  has  anything  happened  .  .  . 
this  afternoon  ?" 

"No,  everything  has  been  quiet.  .  .  .  But  oh, 
when  the  night  comes!  .  .  .  All  the  servants 
are  frightened,  kandjeng.  .  .'  .  The  kokkie  says 
she  won't  stay.      .      .      .** 

"Oh,  what  a  susa!  .  .  .  Oorip,  promise  her 
five  guilders  .  .  .  as  a  present  ...  if 
she  stays.      .      .      ." 

"The  spen  Is  frightened  too,  kandjeng." 

*  "Bring  the  bath-things." 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  225 

"Oh,  what  a  susa!  .  .  .  I've  never  had  such 
a  susa,  Oorip.      .      .      ." 

"No,  kandjcng." 

"I  have  always  been  able  to  arrange  matters  so 
well.      .      .      .     But  these  are  things     .      .      .  !" 

"Apa  hole  bimt,^  kandjeng^  .  .  .  Things  are 
stronger  than  men.      .      .      . " 

"Mightn't  it  really  be  luaks  .  .  .  and  a  man 
throwing  stones?" 

"Massa,  kandjcng!" 

"Well,  bring  my  bath-things.  .  .  .  Don't  for- 
get to  light  the  little  lamp.      .      .      ." 

The  maid  left  the  room.  The  dusk  began  to  fall 
softly  through  the  air,  soft  as  velvet  after  the  rain. 
The  great  residency  stood  still  as  death  amid  the  dark- 
ness of  its  giant  warningins.  And  the  lamps  were 
not  yet  lit.  In  the  front  verandah,  Van  Oudijck,  by 
himself,  lay  in  his  pyjamas  on  a  wicker  chair,  drinking 
tea.  In  the  garden  the  dense  shadows  were  gathering 
like  strips  of  immaterial  velvet  falling  heavily  from 
the  trees. 

"Tnkan-lampu!"~ 

"Kandjeng?" 

"Come,  light  the  lamps !  Why  do  you  begin  so  late  ? 
Light  the  lamp  in  my  bedroom  first.      ,      .      ." 

She  went  to  the  bathroom.  She  went  past  the  long 
row  of  gitdangs  and  servants'  rooms  which  shut  off 
the  back-garden.  She  looked  up  at  the  waringins  in 
whose  top  branches  she  had  heard  the  little  souls  moan- 
ing. The  branches  did  not  move,  there  was  not  a 
breath  of  wind,  the  air  was  sultry  and  oppressive  with 

'"What  can  one  do?" 
*  Lamp-boy. 


226  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

a  threatening  storm,  with  rain  too  heavy  to  fall.     In 
the  bathroom,  Oorip  was  hghting  the  Httle  lamp. 

"Have  you  brought  everything,  Oorip?" 

"Saja,  kandjeng." 

^  "Haven't  you  forgotten  the  big  bottle  with  the  white 
ajerzvangif"'^ 

"Isn't  this  it,  kandjengr 

"Yes,  that's  right.  .  .  .  But  do  give  me  a  fine 
towel  for  my  face  in  future.  Tm  always  telling  you 
to  give  me  a  fine  towel.     I  hate  these  coarse  ones. 

•  «  • 

"I'll  run  and  fetch  one." 

"No,  no!    Stay  here,  stay  and  sit  by  the  door." 

*'Saja,  kandjeng." 

"And  you  must  have  the  keys  seen  to  by  a  tukan- 
hesie.-     We  can't  lock  the  bathroom-door.      . 
It's  too  silly,  when  there  are  visitors." 

"I'll  remember  to-morrow." 

"Mind  you  don't  forget." 

She  shut  the  door.  The  maid  squatted  down  outside 
the  closed  door,  patient  and  resigned  under  the  big 
and  little  things  of  life,  knowing  nothing  but  loyalty 
to  her.  mistress,  who  gave  her  pretty  sarongs  and  paid 
her  wages  in  advance  as  often  as  she  wanted  them. 

In  the  bathroom  the  little  nickel  lamp  gleamed 
faintly  over  the  pale-green  marble  of  the  wet  floor; 
over  the  water  brimming  in  the  square  sunk  bath. 

"I'll  have  my  evening  bath  a  little  earlier  in 
future,"  thought  Leonie. 

She  removed  her  kimono  and  sarong;  and,  standing 
naked,  she  glanced  in  the  mirror  at  her  soft,  milk- 
*  Toilet-water. 

'  Smith. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  227 

white  contours,  the  rounded  outlines  of  an  amorous 
woman.  Her  fair  hair  shone  like  gold ;  and  a  pearly 
lustre  spread  from  her  shoulders  down  over  her  bosom 
and  vanished  in  the  shadow  of  her  small,  round  breasts. 
She  lifted  her  hair,  admiring  herself,  examining  her- 
self for  a  chance  wrinkle,  feeling  whether  her  flesh 
was  hard  and  firm.  One  of  her  hips  arched  outwards, 
as  she  rested  her  weight  on  one  leg ;  and  a  long  white 
high-light  curved  caressingly  past  her  thigh  and  knee, 
disappearing  at  the  instep.  But  she  gave  a  start  as 
she  stood  thus  absorbed  in  admiration:  she  had  meant 
to  hurry.  She  quickly  tied  her  hair  into  a  knot, 
covered  herself  with  a  lather  of  soap  and,  taking  the 
gajong,^  poured  the  water  over  her  body.  It  flowed 
heavily  over  her  In  long  smooth  streams;  and  her 
gleaming  shoulders,  breasts  and  hips  shone  like  marble 
in  the  light  of  the  little  lamp.  .  .  ,  Yes,  she 
would  bathe  earlier  in  future.  It  was  already  dark 
outside. 

She  dried  herself  hurriedly,  with  a  rough  towel. 
She  just  rubbed  herself,  briskly,  with  the  white  oint- 
ment which  Oorip  always  prepared,  her  magic  elixir 
of  youth,  suppleness  and  firm  whiteness. 
At  that  moment,  she  saw  on  her  thigh  a  small  red  spot. 
She  paid  no  attention  to  it,  thinking  that  there  must 
have  been  something  in  the  water,  a  tiny  leaf,  a  dead 
insect.  She  rubbed  it  off.  But,  while  rubbing  herself, 
she  saw  two  or  three  larger  spots,  deep  scarlet,  on 
her  chest.  She  turned  suddenly  cold,  not  knowing 
what  it  was,  not  understanding.  She  rubbed  herself 
down  again ;  and  she  took  the  towel,  on  which  the  spots 
had  left  something  slimy,  like  clotted  blood.    A  shiver 

*  Scoop,  bowl. 


228  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

ran  over  her  from  head  to  foot.  And  suddenly  she 
saw.  The  spots  came  out  of  the  corners  of  the  bath- 
room— ^how  and  where  she  did  not  see — first  small, 
then  large,  as  though  spat  out  by  a  dribbling,  betel- 
chewing  mouth.  Cold  as  ice,  she  gave  a  scream.  The 
spots,  now  closer  together,  became  full,  like  blobs  of 
purple  saliva  spat  against  her.  Her  body  was  soiled 
and  filthy  with  a  grimy,  dribbling  redness.  One  spot 
struck  her  in  the  eye. 

The  slimy  blobs  of  spittle  marked  the  greenish  white 
of  the  floor  and  floated  in  the  water  that  had  not  yet 
run  off.  They  also  fouled  the  water  in  the  bath  and 
dissolved  in  filth.  She  was  all  red,  stained  and  un- 
clean, as  though  defiled  by  a  foul  scarlet  shame  which 
invisible  betel-chewing  mouths  hawked  and  spat  upon 
her  from  the  comers  of  the  room,  aiming  at  her  hair, 
her  eyes,  her  breasts,  her  flanks.  She  uttered  yell 
upon  yell,  driven  crazy  by  the  strangeness  of  what 
was  happening.  She  rushed  to  the  door,  tried  to  open 
it,  but  there  was  something  amiss  with  the  handle. 
For  the  key  was  not  turned  in  the  lock,  the  bolt  was  not 
shot.  She  felt  her  back  spat  upon  again  and  again ;  and 
the  red  dripped  off  her.  She  screamed  for  Oorip  and 
heard  the  girl  outside  the  door,  pulling  and  pushing. 

At  last  the  door  yielded.  And,  desperate,  mad,  dis- 
traught, insane,  naked,  befouled,  she  threw  herself  into 
her  maid's  arms.  The  servants  came  running  up.  She 
saw  Van  Oudijck,  Theo  and  Doddle  hastening  from 
the  back-verandah.  In  her  utter  madness,  with  her 
eyes  staring  widely,  she  felt  ashamed  not  of  her  nudity 
but  of  her  defilement.  The  maid  had  snatched  the 
kimono,  also  befouled,  from  the  handle  of  the  door 
and  threw  It  round  her  mistress. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  229 

"Keep  away!'*  Leonie  yelled,  desperately.  "Don't 
come  any  nearer!"  she  screamed  madly.  "Oorip, 
Oorip,  take  me  to  the  swimming-bath !  A  lamp,  a  lamp 
.     .     .     in  the  swimming-bath!" 

"What  is  it,  Leonie?" 

She  refused  to  say: 

"I've  .  .  .  trodden  .  .  .  on  a  .  .  . 
toad!"  she  screamed.  "I'm  afraid  ...  of 
itch!  .  .  .  Don't  come  any  nearer!  I've  got 
nothing  on !  .  .  .  Keep  away !  Keep  away ! 
A  lamp,  a  lamp  ...  a  lamp,  I  tell 
you  ...  in  the  swimming-bath !  .  .  . 
No,  Otto !  Keep  away !  Keep  away !  I'm  undressed ! 
Keep  away!     Bazva     .      .      .     la-a-ampii!"^ 

The  servants  scurried  past  one  another.  One  of 
them  brought  a  lamp  to  the  swimming-bath. 

"Oorip!     Oorip!" 

She  clutched  her  maid: 

"They've  spat  at  me  .  .  .  with  sirih!  .  .  . 
They've  spat  ...  at  me  .  .  .  with 
siriJiI  .  .  .  They've  spat  ...  at  me 
with  sirih!" 

"Hush,  kandjcng!  .  .  .  Come  along  .  .  . 
to  the  swimming-bath !" 

"Wash  me,  Oorip!  .  .  .  Oorip,  my  hair,  my 
eyes !    O  God,  I  can  taste  it  in  my  mouth !     .      .      . " 

She  sobbed  despairingly;  the  maid  dragged  her 
along. 

"Oorip!      First    look     .      .      .     preksa-    . 
if  they're  spitting     ...     in  the  swimming-bath 
too!" 

^  "Bring  a  lamp  !" 

'  "Look  and  see." 


230  ^    THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

The  maid  went  In,  shivering: 

"There's  nothing  there,  kandjeng." 

"Quick  then,  Oorip,  bathe  me,  wash  me." 

She  flung  off  the  kimono;  her  beautiful  body  be- 
came visible  in  the  light  of  the  lamp,  as  though  soiled 
with  dirty  blood. 

"Oorip,  wash  me.  .  .  .  No,  don't  go  for 
soap ;  water  will  do !  .  .  .  Don't  leave  me  alone ! 
Oorip,  wash  me  here,  can't  you  ?  .  .  .  Bum  the 
kimono!     Oorip!" 

She  ducked  in  the  swimming-bath  and  swam  round 
desperately:  the  maid,  half -undressed,  went  in  after 
her  and  washed  her. 

"Quick,  Oorip!      Quick:    only    the    worst    places! 
I'm        frightened!  Presently 

presently  they'll  be  spitting  here!  ...  In  the 
bedroom  next,  Oorip !  .  .  .  Call  out  that  there's 
to  be  no  one  in  the  garden !  I  won't  put  the  kimono 
on  again!  Quickly,  Oorip,  call  out!  I  want  to  get 
away !" 

The  maid  called  across  the  garden,  in  Javanese. 

Leonie,  all  dripping,  stepped  out  of  the  water  and, 
naked  and  wet,  flew  past  the  servants'  rooms,  with  the 
maid  behind  her.  Inside  the  house,  Van  Oudijck, 
frantic  with  anxiety,  came  running  towards  her. 

"Go  away.  Otto !    Leave  me  alone !    I've     . 
I've  got  nothing  on !"  she  screamed. 

And  she  rushed  into  her  room  and,  when  Oorip  had 
followed  her,  locked  all  the  doors. 

In  the  garden  the  servants  crept  together,  under  the 
sloping  roof  of  the  verandah,  close  to  the  house.  The 
thunder  w^as  muttering  softly  and  a  silent  rain  was  be- 
ginning to  fall.     .     .     . 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Leonie  kept  her  bed  for  a  couple  of  days  with  nerv- 
ous fever.  People  at  Labuwangi  said  that  the  resi- 
dency was  haunted.  At  the  weekly  assemblies  in  the 
Municipal  Garden,  when  the  band  played  and  the  chil- 
dren and  the  young  people  danced  on  the  open-air 
stone  floor,  there  were  whispered  conversations  around 
the  refreshment-tables  touching  the  strange  happenings 
in  the  residency.  Dr.  Rantzow  was  asked  many  ques- 
tions, but  could  only  tell  what  the  resident  had  told 
him,  what  Mrs.  van  Oudijck  herself  had  told  him,  of 
her  being  frightened  in  the  bathroom  by  an  enormous 
toad,  on  which  she  had  trodden  and  stumbled.  There 
was  more  known  through  the  servants,  however; 
though,  when  one  spoke  of  the  stone-throwing  and  the 
sinh-spitt'mg,  another  laughed  and  called  it  all  babu- 
talk.  And  so  uncertainty  prevailed.  Nevertheless,  the 
papers  throughout  the  country,  from  Surabaya  to 
Batavia,  contained  short  paragraphs  of  a  curious 
nature,  which  were  not  very  lucid  but  which  suggested 
a  good  deal. 

Van  Oudijck  himself  discussed  the  matter,  with  no- 
body, neither  with  his  wife  and  his  children,  nor  with 
the  officials  or  with  the  servants.  But  on  one  occasion 
he  came  out  of  the  bathroom  looking  deathly  pale,  with 
eyes  staring  wildly.  He  went  indoors  quietly,  how- 
ever, and  pulled  himself  together:  and  no  one  noticed 
anything.  Then  he  spoke  to  the  chief  of  police.  There 
was  an  old  graveyard  next  to  the  residency-grounds. 
This  was  now  watched  day  and  night ;  also  the  outer 


232  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

wall  of  the  bathroom.  The  bathroom  itself  was  no 
longer  used;  they  took  their  baths  instead  in  the  visi- 
tors' bathroom. 

As  soon  as  Mrs,  van  Oudijck  had  recovered,  she 
went  to  stay  with  friends  at  Surabaya.  She  did  not 
return.  She  had  gradually,  and  unostentatiously,  with- 
out a  word  to  Van  Oudijck,  made  Oorip  pack  up  her 
clothes  and  all  sorts  of  knicknacks  to  which  she  was 
attached.  Trunk  upon  trunk  was  sent  after  her. 
When  Van  Oudijck  happened  to  go  to  her  bedroom  one 
day,  he  found  it  empty  of  all  but  the  furniture.  Num- 
berless things  had  disappeared  from  her  boudoir  also. 
He  had  not  observed  the  dispatch  of  the  trunks,  but  he 
now  understood  that  she  would  not  return.  He  can- 
celled his  next  reception.  It  was  December;  and  Rene 
and  Ricus  were  to  come  from  Batavia  for  the  Christ- 
mas holidays,  for  a  week  or  ten  days ;  but  he  cancelled 
the  boys'  visit.  Then  Doddie  was  invited  to  stay  at 
Patjaram,  with  the  De  Luce  family.  Although,  with 
the  instinct  of  a  full-blooded  Hollander,  he  did  not 
like  the  De  Luces,  he  consented.  They  were  fond  of 
Doddie  there:  she  would  have  a  better  time  than  at 
Labuwangi.  He  had  given  up  his  idea,  the  hope  that 
Doddie  would  not  become  Indianized.  Suddenly, 
Theo  also  went  away:  through  Leonie's  influence  with 
commercial  magnates  at  Surabaya,  he  at  once  obtained 
a  well-paid  berth  in  an  export-and-import  business. 

Van  Oudijck  was  left  all  alone  in  his  big  house.  As 
the  kokkie  and  the  spcn  had  run  away,  Eldersma  and 
Eva  constantly  asked  him  to  meals,  both  to  lunch  and 
dinner.  He  never  mentioned  his  house  at  their  table 
and  it  was  never  discussed.  What  he  discussed  confi- 
dentially with  Eldersma,  as  secretary,  and  with  Van 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  233 

Helderen,  as  controller,  these  two  never  mentioned, 
treating  it  all  as  an  official  secret.  The  chief  of  police, 
who  had  been  accustomed  daily  to  make  his  brief  re- 
port— that  nothing  particular  had  happened,  or  that 
there  had  been  a  fire,  or  that  a  man  had  been  wounded 
— now  made  long,  secret  reports,  with  the  doors  of  the 
office  locked,  to  prevent  the  oppassers  outside  from 
listening.  Gradually  all  the  servants  ran  away,  de- 
parting stealthily  in  the  night,  with  their  families  and 
their  household  belongings,  leaving  their  huts  in  the 
compound  empty  and  dirty.  They  did  not  even  stay 
in  the  residency.  Van  Oudijck  let  them  go.  He  kept 
only  Kario  and  the  oppassers;  and  the  prisoners  tended 
the  garden  daily.  Thus  the  house  remained  ap- 
parently unaltered,  outside.  But,  inside,  where  noth- 
ing was  looked  after,  the  dust  lay  thick  on  the  furni- 
ture, white  ants  devoured  the  mats,  mildew  and  patches 
of  moisture  came  through  the  walls.  The  resident 
never  went  through  the  house,  occupying  only  his  bed- 
room and  his  office.  His  face  began  to  wear  a  look  of 
gloom,  like  a  bitter,  silent  doubt.  He  worked  more 
conscientiously  than  ever  and  stimulated  his  subordi- 
nates more  actively,  as  though  he  were  thinking  of 
nothing  but  the  interests  of  Labuwangi.  In  his  iso- 
lated position,  he  had  no  friend  and  sought  none.  He 
bore  everything  alone,  on  his  own  shoulders,  on  his 
own  back,  which  grew  bent  with  approaching  age: 
the  heavy  burden  of  his  house,  which  was  being 
destroyed,  and  of  his  family  life,  which  was  breaking 
up  amid  the  strange  happenings  that  escaped  his  police, 
his  watchmen,  his  personal  vigilance  and  his  secret 
spies.  He  discovered  nothing.  Nobody  told  him  any- 
thing.   No  one  threw  any  light  on  anything. 


234  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

And  the  strange  happenings  continued.  A  mirror 
was  smashed  by  a  great  stone.  Calmly  he  had  the 
pieces  cleared  away.  It  was  not  his  nature  to  believe 
in  the  supernatural  character  of  possibilities;  and  he 
did  not  believe  in  it.  He  was  secretly  enraged  at  being 
unable  to  discover  the  culprits  and  an  explanation  of 
the  events.  But  he  refused  to  believe.  He  did  not  be- 
lieve when  he  found  his  bed  soiled  and  Kario,  squatting 
at  his  feet,  swore  that  he  did  not  know  how  it  had 
happened.  He  did  not  believe  when  the  tumbler  which 
he  lifted  broke  into  slivers.  He  did  not  believe  when 
he  heard  a  constant  irritating  hammering  overhead. 
But  his  bed  was  soiled,  his  glass  did  break,  the  ham- 
mering was  a  fact.  He  investigated  all  these  facts, 
as  punctiliously  as  though  he  were  investigating  a  crim- 
inal case,  and  nothing  came  to  light.  He  remained 
unperturbed  in  his  relations  with  his  European  and 
native  officials  and  with  the  regent.  No  one  remarked 
anything  in  his  behaviour;  and  in  the  evenings  he 
worked  on,  defiantly,  at  his  writing-table,  while  the 
hammering  continued  and  the  night  fell  softly  in  the 
garden,  as  by  enchantment. 

On  the  steps  outside,  the  oppassers  crept  together, 
h'stening  and  whispering,  glancing  round  timorously  at 
their  master  who  sat  writing,  with  a  frown  of  con- 
centration on  his  brows: 

''Doesn't  he  hear  it?" 

"Yes,  yes,  he's  not  deaf." 

"He  must  hear  it." 

"He  thinks  he  can  find  It  out  through  djagas."^ 

"There  are  soldiers  coming  from  Ngadjiwa." 

"From  Ngadjiwa!'* 

*  Police-detectives. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  235 

"Yes,  he  does  not  trust  the  djagas.  He  has  written 
to  the  titan  major." 

"To  send  soldiers  ?" 

"Yes,  tliere  are  soldiers  coming." 

"Look  at  him  frowning." 

"And  he  just  goes  on  working !" 

"I'm  frightened.  I  should  never  dare  to  stay  if  I 
hadn't  got  to." 

"I'm  not  afraid  to  stay,  as  long  as  he's  there." 

"Yes,      .      .      .     he's  brave." 

"He's  plucky." 

"He's  a  brave  man." 

"But  he  doesn't  understand  it." 

"No,  he  doesn't  know  what  it  is." 

"He  thinks  it's  rats." 

"Yes,  he  has  had  a  search  made  for  rats  upstairs, 
under  the  roof." 

"Those  Hollanders  don't  know  things." 

"No,  they  don't  understand." 

"He  smokes  a  lot." 

"Yes,  quite  twelve  cigars  a  day." 

"He  doesn't  drink  much." 

"No  .  .  .  only  his  whisky-and-soda  of  an 
evening." 

"He'll  ask  for  it  presently." 

"No  one  has  stayed  with  him." 

"No.     The  others  understood.     They've  all  left." 

"He  goes  to  bed  very  late." 

"Yes,  he's  working  hard." 

"He  never  sleeps  at  night,  only  in  the  afternoon." 

"Look  at  him  frowning." 

"He  never  stops  working." 

"Oppas!" 


236  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"He's  calling." 

"Kandjeng?" 

"Bazva  whisky-and-soda." 

One  of  the  oppassers  rose,  to  fetch  the  drink.  He 
had  everything  ready  to  hand,  in  the  visitors'  wing,  to 
avoid  having  to  go  through  the  house.  The  others 
pressed  closer  together  and  went  on  whispering.  The 
moon  pierced  the  clouds  and  lit  up  the  garden  and  the 
pond  as  with  a  humid  vapour  of  silent  enchantment. 
The  oppasser  had  mixed  the  drink ;  he  returned,  squat- 
ted and  offered  it  to  the  resident. 

"Put  it  down,"  said  Van  Oudijck. 

The  oppasser  stood  the  tumbler  on  the  writing-table 
and  crept  away.  The  other  oppassers  whispered  to- 
gether. 

"Oppas!"  cried  Van  Oudijck. 

"Kandjengf* 

"What  have  you  put  in  this  glass?" 

The  man  trembled  and  shrank  away  at  Van 
Oudijck's  feet: 

''Kandjeng,  it's  not  poison;  I  swear  it  by  my  life,  by 
my  death ;  I  can't  help  it,  kandjeng.  Kick  me,  kill  me ; 
I  can't  help  it,  kandjeng." 

The  glass  was  a  dull  yellow. 

"Fetch  another  tumbler  and  fill  it  before  me." 

The  oppasser  went  away,  trembling. 

The  others  sat  close  together,  feeling  the  contact  of 
one  another's  bodies  through  the  sweat-soaked  cloth 
of  their  liveries,  and  stared  before  them  in  dismay. 
The  moon  rose  from  its  clouds,  laughing  and  mocking 
like  a  wicked  fairy;  its  moist  and  silent  enchantment 
shone  silver  over  the  wide  garden.  In  the  distance, 
from  the  garden  at  the  back,  a  plaintive  cry  rang  out, 
as  though  a  child  were  being  throttled. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

"And  how  are   you,   mevrouwtje?     How's  the  de- 
pression?   Is  India  suiting  you  any  better  to-day?" 

His  words  sounded  cheerful  to  Eva,  as  she  saw  him 
coming  through  the  garden,  on  the  stroke  of  eight, 
for  dinner.  His  tone  expressed  nothing  more  than 
the  gay  greeting  of  a  man  who  has  been  working  hard 
at  his  desk  and  is  deHghted  to  see  a  pretty  woman  at 
whose  table  he  is  about  to  sit.  She  was  filled  with  sur- 
prise and  admiration.  There  was  not  a  suggestion  of 
a  man  who  is  plagued  all  day  long,  in  a  deserted  house, 
by  strange  and  incomprehensible  happenings.  There 
was  hardly  a  shadow  of  dejection  on  his  wide  fore- 
head, hardly  a  care  seemed  to  rest  upon  his  broad, 
slightly  bowed  back ;  and  the  jovial,  smiling  line  about 
his  thick  moustache  was  there  as  usual.  Eldersma 
came  up;  and  Eva  divined  in  his  greeting,  in  his  pres- 
sure of  the  hand,  a  silent  freemasonry  of  things  known, 
of  confidences  shared  in  common.  And  Van  Oudijck 
drank  his  gin-and-bitters  in  a  perfectly  normal  man- 
ner, spoke  of  a  letter  from  his  wife,  who  was  probably 
going  on  to  Batavia,  said  that  Rene  and  Ricus  were 
staying  in  the  Preanger^  with  friends  who  had  a  plan- 
tation there.  He  did  not  speak  of  the  reason  why  they 
were  not  with  him,  why  he  had  been  entirely  abandoned 
by  his  family  and  servants.  In  the  intimacy  of  their 
circle,  which  he  now  visited  twice  a  day  for  his  meals, 
he  had  never  spoken  of  this.  And,  though  Eva  did  not 
ask  any  questions,  it  was  making  her  extremely  nerv- 

*The  chief  coffee-growing  district  of  Java. 


238  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

ous.  So  dose  to  the  house,  the  haunted  house,  whose 
pillars  she  could  see  by  day  in  the  distance,  gleaming 
through  the  foliage  of  the  trees,  she  became  more 
nervous  every  day.  All  day  long,  the  servants  whis- 
pered around  her  and  peered  timidly  at  the  haunted 
rcsidinan.^  At  night,  unable  to  sleep,  she  strained  her 
ears  to  hear  whether  she  could  detect  anything  strange, 
the  moaning  of  the  little  children.  The  Indian  night 
was  so  full  of  voices  that  it  could  but  make  her  shud- 
der on  her  bed.  Through  the  imiperlous  roaring  of 
the  frogs  for  rain  and  rain  and  more  rain  still,  the 
constant  croaking  on  the  one  roaring  note,  she  heard 
thousands  of  ghostly  sounds  that  kept  her  from  sleep- 
ing. Through  it  all  the  tokkes  and  geckos  emitted  their 
clockwork  strokes,  like  strange  mysterious  timepieces. 

She  thought  of  it  all  day  long.  Eldersma  did  not 
speak  of  it  either.  But,  when  she  saw  Van  Oudijck 
come  to  lunch  or  dinner,  she  had  to  compress  her  lips 
lest  she  should  question  him.  And  the  conversation 
touched  upon  all  sorts  of  topics,  but  never  upon  the 
strange  happenings.  After  lunch.  Van  Oudijck  went 
across  to  the  residency  again;  after  dinner,  at  ten 
o'clock,  she  saw  him  once  more  vanish  into  the  haunt- 
ing shadow  of  the  garden.  With  a  calm  step,  every 
evening  he  went  back,  through  the  enchanted  night,  to 
his  wretched,  deserted  house,  where  the  oppasscr  and 
Kario  sat  squatting  close  together  outside  his  office; 
and  he  worked  until  late  in  the  night.  He  never  com- 
plained. He  pursued  his  enquiries  closely,  all  through 
the  kotta,  but  nothing  came  to  light.  Everything  con- 
tinued to  happen  in  impenetrable  mystery. 

^Residency,  resident's  house. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  239 


&> 


"And    how    does    India    suit    you    this    evening 
mevrouwtje?" 

It  was  always  more  or  less  the  same  pleasantry ;  but 
each  time  she  admired  his  tone.    Courage,  robust  self- 
confidence,  a  certainty  in  his  own  knowledge,  a  belief 
in  what  he  knew  for  certain:  all  these  rang  in  his  voice 
with  metallic  clearness.    Miserable  though  he  must  feel 
— he,  the  man  of  profoundly  domestic  inclinations  and 
of  cool,  practical  sense — in  a  house  deserted  by  those 
who  belonged  to  him  and  full  of  inexplicable  happen- 
ings, there  was  not  a  trace  of  doubt  or  dejection  in  his 
unfailing  masculine  simplicity.     He  went  his  way  and 
did  his  work,  more  conscientiously  than  ever;  he  con- 
tinued his  investigations.    And  at  Eva's  table  he  always 
kept  up  an  animated  conversation,  on  politics  in  India 
and  the  new  craze  for  having  India  ruled  from  Holland 
by  laymen  who  did  not  know  even  the  A.  B.  C.  of  the 
business.      And   he    talked    with   an    easy,    pleasant 
vivacity,  free  from  all  effort,  till  Eva  came  to  admire 
him  daily  more  and  more.     But  with  her,  a  sensitive 
woman,  this  became  a  nervous  obsession.     And  once, 
in  the  evening,  as  she  was  walking  a  little  way  with 
him,  she  asked  him  if  it  wasn't  terrible,  if  he  couldn't 
leave  the  house,  if  he  couldn't  go  on  circuit,  for  a  good 
long  time.     She  saw  his  face  clouding  at  her  questions. 
But  still  he  answered  kindly,  saying  that  it  was  not  so 
bad,  even  though  it  was  all  inexplicable,  and  that  he 
would  back  himself  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  con- 
juring.   And  he  added  that  he  really  ought  to  be  going 
on  circuit,  but  that  he  would  not  go,  lest  he  should 
seem  to  be  running  away.    Then  he  hurriedly  pressed 
her  hand  and  told  her  not  to  upset  herself  and  not  to 
think  about  it  any  more  or  talk  about  it.     The  last 


240  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

words  sounded  like  a  friendly  admonition.  She  pressed 
his  hand  once  more,  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  And  she 
watched  him  walk  away,  with  his  calm,  firm  step,  and 
disappear  in  the  darkness  of  his  garden,  where  the  en- 
chantment must  be  creeping  in  through  the  croaking 
of  the  frogs.  But  standing  there  like  that  made  her 
shudder;  and  she  hurried  indoors.  And  she  felt  that 
her  house,  that  roomy  house  of  hers,  was  small  and 
unduly  open  and  defenceless  against  the  vast  Indian 
night,  which  could  enter  from  every  side. 

But  she  was  not  the  only  person  obsessed  by  the 
mysterious  happenings.  Their  inexplicable  nature  lay 
like  an  oppression  over  the  whole  town,  so  completely 
did  it  clash  with  the  things  of  everyday  life.  The 
mystery  was  discussed  in  every  house,  but  only  in  a 
whisper,  lest  the  children  should  be  frightened  and  the 
servants  perceive  that  people  were  impressed  by  the 
Javanese  conjuring,  as  the  resident  himself  had  called 
it.  And  the  imeasiness  and  depression  were  making 
everybody  ill  with  nervous  apprehension  and  listening 
when  the  darkness  was  teeming  with  voices  in  the 
night,  which  drifted  down  on  the  town  In  a  dense,  vel- 
vety greyness ;  and  the  town  seemed  to  be  hiding  Itself 
more  deeply  than  ever  In  the  foliage  of  Its  gardens, 
seemed,  In  these  moist  evening  twilights,  to  be  shrink- 
ing away  altogether  In  dull,  silent  resignation,  bowing 
before  the  mystery. 

Then  Van  Oudljck  thought  It  time  to  take  strong 
measures.  He  wrote  to  the  major  commanding  the 
garrison  at  Ngadjiwa  to  come  over  with  a  captain,  a 
couple  of  lieutenants  and  a  company  of  soldiers.  That 
evening,  the  officers,  with  the  resident  and  Van 
Helderen,   dined  at  the  Eldersmas*.     They  hurried 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  241 

through  their  meal;  and  Eva,  standing  at  the  garden- 
gate,  saw  them  all — the  resident,  the  secretary,  the 
controller  and  the  four  officers — go  into  the  dark 
garden  of  the  haunted  house.  The  residency-grounds 
were  shut  off,  the  house  surrounded  and  the  church- 
yard watched.  The  men  went  to  the  bathroom  by 
themselves. 

They  remained  there  all  through  the  night.  And 
all  through  the  night  the  grounds  and  house  remained 
shut  off  and  surrounded.  Thev  came  out  at  about  five 
o'clock  and  went  straight  to  the  swimming-bath  and 
bathed,  all  of  them  together.  W'hat  had  happened  to 
them  they  did  not  say,  but  they  had  had  a  terrible 
night.     That  morning  the  bathroom  was  pulled  down. 

They  had  all  promised  Van  Oudijck  not  to  speak 
about  that  night;  and  Eldersma  would  not  tell  any- 
thing to  Eva,  nor  Van  Helderen  to  Ida.  The  officers 
too,  on  their  return  to  Ngadjiwa.  were  silent.  They 
merely  said  that  their  night  in  the  bathroom  was  too 
improbable  for  any  one  to  believe  the  stor5\  At  last 
one  of  the  young  lieutenants  allowed  a  hint  of  his  ad- 
ventures to  escape  him.  And  a  tale  of  .r/nVi-spitting 
and  stone-throwing,  of  a  floor  that  heaved,  while  they 
struck  at  it  with  sticks  and  swords,  and  of  something 
more,  something  unutterably  horrible  that  had  hap- 
pened in  the  water  of  the  bath,  went  the  rounds.  Every 
one  now  added  something  to  it.  When  the  story 
reached  Van  Oudijck's  ears,  he  hardly  recognized  it 
as  an  account  of  the  terrible  night,  which  had  been 
terrible  enough  without  any  additions. 

Meanwhile  Eldersma  had  written  a  report  of  their 
united  vigil ;  and  they  all  signed  the  improbable  story. 
Van  Oudijck  himself  took  the  report  to  Batavia  and 


242  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

delivered  it  to  the  governor-general  with  his  own 
hands.  Thenceforth  it  slumbered  in  the  secret 
archives  of  the  government. 

The  governor-general  advised  Van  Oudijck  to  go 
to  Holland  on  leave  for  a  short  period,  assuring  him 
that  this  leave  would  have  no  influence  on  his  promo- 
tion to  a  residency  of  the  first  class,  which  was  nearly- 
due.  He  refused  this  favour,  however,  and  returned 
to  Labuwangi.  The  only  concession  which  he  made 
was  to  move  into  Eldersma's  house  until  the  residency 
should  be  thoroughly  cleaned.  But  the  flag  continued 
to  wave  from  the  flagstaff  in  the  residency-grounds. 

On  his  return  from  Batavia,  Van  Oudijck  often  met 
Sunario,  the  regent,  on  matters  of  business.  And,  in 
his  intercourse  with  the  regent,  the  resident  remained 
stern  and  formal.  Then  he  had  a  brief  interview,  first 
with  the  regent  and  afterwards  with  his  mother,  the 
Raden-Aju  Pangeran.  The  two  conversations  did  not 
last  longer  than  twenty  minutes.  But  it  appeared  that 
those  few  words  were  of  great  and  portentous  moment. 

For  the  strange  happenings  ceased.  When  every- 
thing had  been  cleaned  and  repaired,  under  Eva's 
supervision,  Van  Oudijck  compelled  Leonie  to  come 
back,  because  he  wished  to  give  a  great  ball  on  New 
Year's  Day.  In  the  morning,  the  resident  received  all 
his  European  and  native  officials.  In  the  evening,  the 
guests  streamed  into  the  brightly  lit  galleries  from 
every  part  of  the  town,  still  inclined  to  shudder  and 
very  inquisitive  and  instinctively  looking  around  and 
above  them.  And,  while  the  champagne  went  round, 
Van  Oudijck  himself  took  a  glass  and  offered  it  to  the 
regent,  with  a  deliberate  breach  of  etiquette;  and,  in 
a   tone   of   solemn    admonition    mingled    with    good- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  243 

humoured  jest,  he  uttered  these  words,  which  were 
seized  upon  and  repeated  on  every  hand  and  which 
continued  to  be  repeated  for  months  throughout 
Labuwangi : 

"Drink  with  an  easy  mind,  regent.  I  give  you  my 
word  of  honour  that  no  more  glasses  will  be  broken  in 
my  house,  except  by  accident  or  carelessness." 

He  was  able  to  say  this  because  he  knew  that — this 
time — ^he  had  been  too  strong  for  the  hidden  force, 
merely  through  his  simple  courage  as  an  official,  a  Hol- 
lander and  a  man. 

But  in  the  regent's  gaze,  as  he  drank,  there  was  still 
a  very  slight  gleam  of  irony,  intimating  that,  though 
the  hidden  force  had  not  conquered — this  time — it 
would  yet  remain  an  enigma,  forever  inexplicable  to 
the  short-sighted  eyes  of  the  Europeans. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

Labuvvangi  came  to  life  again.  It  was  as  though 
people  unanimously  agreed  not  to  discuss  the  strange 
affair  any  further  with  outsiders,  because  it  was  so 
excusable  that  any  one  should  refuse  to  believe  in  the 
thing ;  and  they,  at  Labuwangi,  believed.  And  the  up- 
country  town,  after  the  mystic  oppression  under  which 
it  had  lain  cowering  during  those  unforgettable  weeks, 
came  to  life  again,  as  though  shaking  off  all  its  obses- 
sion. Party  followed  upon  party,  ball  upon  ball, 
theatricals  upon  concert :  all  threw  open  their  doors  to 
entertain  their  friends  and  make  merry,  in  order  to  feel 
normal  and  natural  after  the  incredible  nightmare. 
People  so  accustomed  to  the  natural  and  tangible  life, 
to  the  spacious  and  lavish  material  existence  of  India — 
to  good  cooking,  cool  drinks,  wide  beds,  roomy  houses, 
to  everything  that  represents  physical  luxury  to  the 
European  in  the  east — such  people  breathed  again  and 
shook  off  the  nightmare,  shook  off  the  belief  In  strange 
happenings.  If  and  when  they  discussed  the  thing 
nowadays,  they  commonly  called  it  that  incompre- 
hensible conjuring — echoing  the  resident — the  regent's 
conjuring-tricks.  For  that  he  had  something  to  do 
with  it  was  certain.  That  the  resident  had  held  a 
terrible  threat  over  him  and  his  mother,  if  the  strange 
happenings  did  not  cease,  was  certain.  That,  after 
this,  order  had  been  restored  In  everyday  life  was  cer- 
tain. So  It  was  conjuring.  All  were  now  ashamed  of 
their  credulity  and  their  fears  and  of  having  shuddered 
at  what  had  looked  like  mysticism  and  was  only  clever 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  245 

conjuring.  And  all  breathed  again  and  made  up  their 
minds  to  be  cheerful ;  and  entertainment  followed  upon 
entertainment. 

Leonie,  amid  all  this  dissipation,  forgot  her  irrita- 
tion at  having  been  recalled  by  V'an  Oudijck,  And 
she  too  zcas  determined  to  forget  the  scarlet  pollution 
of  her  body.  But  something  of  its  terror  lingered  in 
her.  She  now  bathed  early  of  an  afternoon,  as  early 
as  half -past  four,  in  the  newly-built  bathroom.  Her 
second  bath  always  gave  her  a  certain  shudder.  And, 
now  that  Theo  had  a  berth  in  Surabaya,  she  got  rid  of 
himj  also,  from  terror.  She  could  not  get  rid  of  the 
idea  that  the  enchantment  had  threatened  to  punish 
both  of  them,  the  mother  and  son,  who  were  bringmg 
shame  on  the  home.  In  the  romantic  side  of  her 
perverse  imagination,  in  her  rosy  fancy  full  of  cherubs 
and  cupids,  this  idea,  inspired  by  her  fears,  struck  too 
precious  a  note  of  tragedy  for  her  not  to  cherish  it, 
for  all  that  Theo  might  say.  She  would  go  no  further. 
And  it  made  hira  furious,  because  he  was  mad  with 
love  for  her,  because  he  could  not  forget  the  disgrace- 
ful delight  which  he  had  enjoyed  in  her  arms.  But  she 
steadily  refused  him  and  told  him  of  her  dread  and 
said  she  was  certain  that  the  witchcraft  would  begin 
again  if  they  two  loved  each  other,  he  and  his  father's 
wife.  Her  words  drove  him  scarlet  with  fury,  on  the 
one  Sunday  which  he  spent  at  Labuwangi:  he  was 
furious  with  her  non-compliance,  with  the  motherly 
attitude  which  she  now  adopted  and  with  the  fact, 
of  which  he  was  well  aware,  that  she  saw  Addie  often, 
that  she  often  went  to  stay  at  Patjaram.  Addie  danced 
with  her  at  parties  and  hung  over  her  chair  at  con- 
certs, in  the  improvised  residential  box.    True,  he  was 


246  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

not  faithful  to  her,  for  it  was  not  his  nature  to  love 
one  woman — he  loved  women  wholesale — but  still  he 
was  as  faithful  to  her  as  he  was  able  to  be.  He  in- 
spired her  with  a  more  lasting  passion  than  she  had 
ever  felt  before;  and  this  passion  roused  her  from  her 
usual  passive  indifference.  Often,  in  company,  suf- 
fering and  inflicting  boredom,  enthroned  in  the  bril- 
liance of  her  white  beauty,  like  a  smiling  idol,  with 
the  languor  of  her  years  in  India  gradually  filling  her 
blood  until  her  movements  had  acquired  that  lazy  in- 
difference for  anything  that  did  not  spell  love  and 
caresses,  until  her  voice  had  assumed  a  drawling  accent 
in  any  word  that  was  not  a  word  of  passion :  often  she 
would  become  transfigured,  by  the  flame  which  Addie 
shed  over  her,  into  a  younger  woman,  livelier  in  com- 
pany, gayer,  flattered  by  the  persistent  homage  of  this 
youth,  on  whom  every  girl  was  mad. 

And  she  delighted  in  monopolizing  him  as  much  as 
she  could,  to  the  vexation  of  all  the  girls  and  of  Doddle 
in  particular.  In  the  midst  of  her  passion  she  also 
took  an  evil  pleasure  in  tantalizing,  merely  for  tan- 
talizing's  sake:  it  gave  her  an  exquisite  enjoyment;  it 
made  her  husband  jealous — perhaps  for  the  first  time, 
for  she  had  always  been  very  careful — and  made  Theo 
and  Doddie  jealous;  she  aroused  the  jealousy  of  every 
young  married  woman  and  every  girl ;  and,  since  she 
stood  above  all  of  them,  as  the  resident's  wife,  she  had 
an  ascendancy  over  all  of  them.  When,  of  an  eve- 
ning, she  had  gone  too  far,  she  delighted  In  winning 
back,  with  a  smile,  with  a  gracious  word,  the  place  in 
their  affection  which  she  had  lost  through  her  flirta- 
tions. And,  strange  though  It  might  seem,  she  suc- 
ceeded.    The  moment  thev  saw  her,  the  moment  she 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  247 

spoke,  smiled  and  exerted  herself  to  be  amiable,  she 
won  back  all  she  had  lost  and  was  forgiven  every- 
thing. Even  Mrs.  Eldersma  allowed  herself  to  be 
conquered  by  the  strange  charm  of  this  woman  who 
was  neither  witty  nor  intelligent,  who  merely  became 
just  a  little  more  cheerful,  who  roused  herself  a  little 
from  her  boring  lethargy,  who  triumphed  only  through 
the  lines  of  her  body,  the  contour  of  her  face,  the 
glance  of  her  strange  eyes,  restful  and  yet  full  of  hid- 
den passion,  and  who  was  conscious  of  all  her  charm 
because  she  had  meditated  upon  it  since  her  childhood. 
Together  with  her  indifference,  this  charm  constituted 
her  strength.  Fate  seemed  to  have  no  hold  upon  her. 
For  it  had  indeed  touched  her  with  a  strange  magic, 
until  she  thought  that  a  chastisement  was  about  to 
descend  upon  her,  but  it  had  gone  its  way  again,  drifted 
away.  But  she  accepted  the  warning.  She  had  done 
with  Theo  and  henceforth  affected  a  motherly  attitude 
towards  him.  It  made  him  furious,  especially  at  these 
parties,  now  that  she  had  grown  younger,  livelier  and 
more  seductive. 

His  passion  for  her  began  to  bum  to  hatred.  He 
hated  her  now,  with  all  the  Instinct  of  a  fair-haired 
native,  for  that  was  what  he  really  was,  despite  his 
white  skin.  For  he  was  his  mother's  son  rather  than 
his  father's.  Oh,  he  hated  her  now,  for  he  had  felt 
his  fear  of  the  punishment  only  for  an  Instant  and 
he  .  ,  .  he  had  forgotten  everything  by  now! 
And  his  one  Idea  was  to  Injure  her  .  .  .  how  he 
did  not  yet  know,  but  to  Injure  her  so  that  she  might 
feel  pain  and  suffer.  The  process  of  thinking  it  over 
Imparted  a  Satanic  gloom  to  his  small,  murky  soul. 
Although  he  did  not  think  about  It,  he  felt  uncon- 


248  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

sciously  that  she  was  as  though  invulnerable ;  he  even 
felt  that  she  boasted  inwardly  of  her  invulnerability 
and  that  it  made  her  daily  more  brazen  and  indifferent. 
She  was  constantly  staying  at  Patjaram,  on  any  excuse 
that    offered.      The    anonymous    letters    which    Van 
Oudijck  still  often  showed  her  no  longer  disturbed 
her;  she  was  growing  accustomed  to  them.     She  re- 
turned them  to  him  without  a  word;  once  she  even 
forgot   them,    left   them   lying   about    in    the   back- 
verandah.    Once  Theo  read  them.     In  a  sudden  flash 
of  light,  due  to  he  knew  not  what,  suddenly  he  seemed 
to  recognize  certain  characters,  certain  strokes.     He 
remembered,  in  the  compound,  near  Patjaram,  the  hut, 
half  bamboo,  half  packing-case-boards,  where  he  and 
Addie  de  Luce  had  been  to  see  Si-Oudijck  and  the 
papers  hastily  raked  together  by  an  Arab.     He  had  a 
vague  recollection  of  seeing  those  same  characters, 
those  strokes,  on  a  scrap  of  paper  on  the  floor.     It 
passed  vaguely  and  quick  as  lightning  through  his 
head.    But  it  was  no  more  than  a  lightning-flash.    His 
small,  murky  soul  had  room  for  nothing  but  dull  hatred 
and  troubled  calculation.    But  he  had  not  sense  enough 
to  follow  out  that  calculation.    He  hated  his  father  by 
instinct  and  innate  antipathy ;  his  mother,  because  she 
was  a  nonna;  his  step-mother,  because  she  had  finished 
with  him;  he  hated  Addie  and  Doddie  into  the  bar- 
gain ;  he  hated  the  world,  because  it  made  him  work. 
He  hated  every  berth  he  had  ever  had:  he  now  hated 
his  ofiice  at  Surabaya.     But  he  was  too  lazy  and  too 
muddle-headed  to  do  any  harm.     Rack  his  brains  as 
he  might,   he  could  not  discover  how  to  harm  his 
father,  Addie  and  Leonie.    Everything  about  him  was 
vague,  turbid,  dissatisfied,  indistinct.     The  object  of 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  249 

his  desire  was  money  and  a  fine  woman.  Beyond  this, 
he  had  nothing  in  him  but  the  dull-witted  gloom  and 
discontent  of  the  fat,  fair-haired  sin  jo  that  he  was. 
And  he  continued  to  brood  impotently  over  his  murky 
thoughts. 

Until  now,  Doddie  had  always  been  very  fond  of 
Leonie,  instinctively.  But  she  was  no  longer  able  to 
conceal  the  fact  from  herself:  what  she  had  first 
thought  an  accident — Mamma  and  Addie  always  seek- 
ing each  other  with  the  same  smile  of  allurement,  one 
drawing  the  other  the  length  of  the  great  room,  as 
though  irresistibly — was  not  an  accident  at  all!  And 
she  too  hated  mamma  now,  mamma  with  her  beautiful 
calmness,  her  soveran  indifference.  Her  own  violent, 
passionate  nature  was  coming  into  collision  with  that 
other  nature,  with  its  milk-white,  Creole  languor,  which 
now  for  the  first  time,  late  in  the  day,  because  of  the 
sheer  kindliness  of  fate,  was  letting  itself  go  as  it 
pleased,  without  reserve.  She  hated  mamma ;  and  her 
hatred  resulted  in  scenes,  scenes  of  nervous,  loud- 
voiced  temper  in  Doddie  contrasting  with  the  irritating 
calmness  of  mamma's  indifference,  scenes  caused  bv 
all  sorts  of  little  differences  of  opinion:  a  visit,  a  ride 
on  horse-back,  a  dress,  a  sambal  which  the  one  liked 
and  the  other  did  not.  Then  Doddie  wanted  to  have 
her  cry  out  on  papa's  breast,  but  Van  Oudijck  would 
not  admit  that  she  was  in  the  right  and  said  that  she 
must  show  more  respect  for  mamma.  But  once,  when 
Doddie  had  come  to  him  for  consolation  and  he  re- 
proached her  for  going  for  walks  with  Addie,  she 
screamed  out  that  mamma  herself  was  in  love  with 
Addie.  Van  Oudijck  angrily  ordered  her  out  of  the 
room.     But  it  all  agreed  too  closelv — the  anonvmous 


250  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

letters,  his  wife's  new-born  flirtations,  Doddie's  ac- 
cusations and  what  he  himself  had  noticed  at  the  last 
few  parties — not  to  give  him  food  for  reflection  and 
even  to  worry  him.  And,  once  he  began  to  worry  and 
reflect  upon  it  all,  memories  came  suddenly  darting 
into  his  mind  like  sudden  flashes  of  lightning:  memor- 
ies of  an  unexpected  visit;  of  a  locked  door;  of  a 
moving  curtain;  of  a  whispered  word  and  a  timidly 
averted  glance.  He  pieced  it  all  together  and  he  quite 
suddenly  recollected  those  same  subtle  memories  in 
combination  with  others,  of  an  earlier  date.  It  all  at 
once  aroused  his  jealousy,  a  husband's  jealousy  of  the 
wife  whom  he  loves  as  his  most  personal  possession. 
This  jealousy  burst  upon  him  like  a  gust  of  wind, 
blowing  its  way  through  his  concentration  upon  his 
work,  confusing  his  thoughts  as  he  sat  writing,  making 
him  suddenly  nm  out  of  his  office,  during  the  police- 
cases,  and  search  Leonie's  room  and  lift  up  a  curtain 
and  even  look  under  the  bed. 

And  now  he  no  longer  consented  to  have  Leonie 
staying  at  Patjaram,  advancing  as  his  pretext  that 
the  De  Luces  should  not  be  encouraged  in  the  hope  of 
getting  Doddie  as  a  wife  for  Addie.  For  he  dared  not 
speak  to  Leonie  of  his  jealousy.  .  .  .  That  Addie 
should  ever  get  Doddie  for  his  wife !  .  .  .  True, 
there  was  native  blood  in  his  daughter  too;  but  he 
wanted  a  full-blooded  European  as  his  son-in-law.  He 
hated  anything  half-caste.  He  hated  the  De  Luces 
and  all  the  up-country,  Indian,  half-Solo  traditions  of 
that  Patjaram  of  theirs.  He  hated  their  gambling, 
their  hobnobbing  with  all  sorts  of  Indian  headmen, 
people  whom  he  accepted  officially,  allowing  them 
their  rights,  but,  apart   from  this,  regarded  as  un- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  251 

avoidable  instruments  of  the  government  policy.  He 
hated  all  their  posing  as  an  old  Indian  family  and  he 
hated  Addie:  an  idle  youth,  who  was  supposed  to  be 
employed  in  the  factory  but  who  did  nothing  at  all, 
except  run  after  every  woman,  girl  and  maid-servant 
in  the  place.  He,  the  older,  industrious  man,  was  un- 
able to  understand  that  kind  of  existence. 

So  Leonie  had  to  do  without  Patjaram;  but  in  the 
mornings  she  went  quietly  to  I\Irs.  van  Does  and  met 
Addie  in  this  lady's  little  house  while  Mrs.  van  Does 
herself  went  out  peddling,  in  a  tjikar,^  with  two  jam- 
pots of  inten-intcn  and  a  bundle  of  hatik  bedspreads. 
Then,  in  the  evenings,  Addie  would  stroll  out  with 
Doddie  and  listen  to  her  passionate  reproaches.  He 
laughed  at  her  tempersome  displays,  took  her  in  his 
arms  till  she  hung  panting  on  his  breast,  kissed  the  re- 
proaches from  her  mouth  till  she  melted  away 
amorously  on  his  lips.  They  went  no  further,  feeling 
too  much  afraid,  especially  Doddie.  They  strolled 
behind  the  comjxjunds,  on  the  galanganr  of  the 
sazvahs,  while  swarms  of  fire-fiies  w^iirled  about  them 
in  the  dark  like  tiny  lanterns ;  they  strolled  arm-in-arm, 
they  walked  hand-in-hand,  in  enervating,  caressing 
love,  which  never  dared  to  push  matters  any  farther. 
When  she  came  home  again,  she  was  furious,  raging 
at  mamma,  in  whom  she  envied  the  calm,  smiling 
satiety  as  she  lay  musing,  in  her  white  tea-gown,  with 
a  touch  of  powder  on  her  face,  in  a  cane  chair. 

And  the  house,  newly  painted  and  whitewashed  after 
the  strange  happenings,  which  were  now  past,  the 
house  was  filled  with  a  hatred  that  rose  on  every  hand, 

*  Little  cart. 

'Narrow  irrigation-dikes. 


252  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

as  it  were  the  very  demoniacal  bloom  of  that  strange 
secret ;  a  hatred  centring  upon  that  silent  woman,  who 
was  too  languid  to  hate  and  only  delighted  in  silent 
tantalizing;  a  jealous  hatred  of  the  father  for  the  son, 
when  he  saw  him  too  often  sitting  beside  his  step- 
mother, begging,  in  spite  of  his  own  hatred,  for  some- 
thing, the  father  did  not  know  what;  a  hatred  of  the 
daughter  for  the  mother;  a  hatred  in  which  all  this 
family-life    was    being    wrecked.      How    it    had    all 
gradually  come  about  Van  Oudijck  did  not  know.    He 
sadly  regretted  the  time  when  he  was  blind,  when  he 
had  seen  his  wife  and  children  only  in  the  light  in 
which  he  wished  to  see  them.     That  time  was  past. 
Like  the  strange  happenings  of  not  so  long  ago,  a 
hatred  was  now  rising  out  of  life,  like  a  miasma  out 
of  the  ground.     And  Van  Oudijck,  who  had  never 
])een   superstitious,    who  had  worked  on  coolly  and 
calmly  in  his  lonely  house,  with  the  incomprehensible 
witchcraft  all  about  him ;  who  had  read  reports  while 
the  hammering  went  on  above  his  head  and  his  whisky- 
and-soda  changed  colour  in  his  glass ;  Van  Oudijck  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life — now  that  he  saw  the  gloomy 
glances  of  Theo  and  Doddie;  now  that  he  suddenly 
discovered  his  wife,  growing  more  brazen  daily,  sit- 
ting hand-in-hand  with  young  De   Luce,   her  knees 
almost  touching  his — became  superstitious,  believing 
in  a  hidden  force  which  lurked  he  knew  not  where,  in 
India,  in  the  soil  of  India,  in  a  deep-seated  mystery, 
somewhere  or  other,  a  force  that  wished  him  ill  be- 
cause he  was  a  European,  a  ruler,  a  foreigner  on  the 
mystic,  sacred  soil.     And,  when  he  saw  this  supersti- 
tion within  himself,   something  so  new  to  him,   the 
practical  man,  something  so  strange  and  Incredible  to 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  253 

him,  a  man  of  single-minded,  masculine  simplicity,  he 
was  afraid  of  himself,  as  of  a  rising  insanity,  which 
he  began  to  perceive  deep  down  within  himself. 

And,  strong  though  he  had  proved  himself  to  be  at 
the  time  of  the  strange  happenings,  which  he  had  been 
able  to  exorcize  with  a  single  word  of  threatening 
force,  this  superstition,  which  came  as  an  aftermath 
of  those  events,  found  a  weakness  in  him,  a  vulnerable 
spot  as  it  were.  He  was  so  much  surprised  at  him- 
self that  he  did  not  understand  and  was  afraid  lest  he 
might  be  going  mad ;  and  still  he  worried.  His  health 
was  undermined  by  an  incipient  liver-complaint;  and 
he  kept  on  examining  his  jaundiced  complexion.  Sud- 
denly he  had  an  idea  that  he  was  being  poisoned.  The 
kitchen  was  searched,  the  cook  subjected  to  a  cross- 
examination  ;  but  nothing  came  to  light.  He  realized 
that  he  had  been  frightened  by  nothing.  But  the  doc- 
tor declared  that  he  had  an  enlarged  liver  and  pre- 
scribed the  usual  diet.  A  thing  which  otherwise  he 
would  have  thought  quite  natural — an  illness  which 
occurred  so  frequently — now  of  a  sudden  struck  him 
as  strange,  a  mysterious  event;  and  he  worried  over 
it.  And  it  got  on  his  nerves.  He  began  to  suffer  from 
sudden  weariness  when  working,  from  throbbing 
headaches.  His  jealousy  upset  him ;  he  was  overcome 
by  a  shuddering  restlessness.  He  suddenly  reflected 
that,  if  there  were  now  any  hammering  above  his  head, 
if  betel- juice  were  now  spat  at  him,  he  would  not  be 
able  to  stay  in  the  house.  And  he  conceived  a  belief 
in  a  hatred  that  rose  slowly  around  him  out  of  the 
hostile  soil,  like  a  miasma.  He  believed  in  a  force 
deep-hidden  in  the  things  of  India,  in  the  nature  of 
Java,  in  the  climate  of  Labuwangi,  in  the  conjuring — 


254  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

as  he  continued  to  call  it — which  sometimes  makes  the 
Javanese  cleverer  than  the  European  and  gives  him  the 
power,  a  mysterious  power,  not  to  release  himself  from 
the  yoke,  but  to  cause  illness,  lingering  illness,  to 
plague  and  harass,  to  play  the  ghost  most  incredibly 
and  hideously:  a  hidden  force,  a  hidden  power,  hostile 
to  our  temperament,  our  blood,  our  bodies,  our  souls, 
our  civilization,  to  all  that  seems  to  us  the  right  thing 
to  do  and  be  and  think.  It  had  flashed  before  him  as 
in  a  sudden  light,  it  was  not  the  result  of  thought,  it 
had  flashed  out  before  him  as  in  a  dreadful  revelation, 
which  was  utterly  in  conflict  with  all  the  logic  of  his 
methodical  mode  of  thought.  In  a  vision  of  terror  he 
suddenly  saw  it  before  him,  as  the  light  of  his  ap- 
proaching old  age,  as  men  who  are  growing  old  do 
sometimes  suddenly  perceive  the  truth.  And  yet  he 
was  young  still  and  hale.  And  he  felt  that,  if  he  did 
not  divert  his  maddening  thoughts,  they  might  make 
him    ill,   weak   and   miserable,    for   ever   and   ever. 

•  •  • 

To  him,  above  all,  a  simple,  practical  man,  this 
change  of  mental  attitude  was  almost  unbearable. 
What  a  morbid  mind  might  have  contemplated  in  quiet 
meditation  flashed  upon  him  as  a  sudden  terror.  Never 
would  he  have  thought  that  there  might  be  somewhere, 
deeply  hidden  in  life,  things  which  were  stronger  than 
the  power  of  the  human  will  and  intellect.  Nowadays, 
after  the  nightmare  which  he  had  so  courageously 
defeated,  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  nightmare  had 
nevertheless  sapped  his  strength  and  inoculated  him 
with  every  sort  of  weakness.  It  was  incredible,  but 
now,  as  he  sat  working  in  the  evening,  he  would  listen 
to  the  evening  voices  in  the  garden,  or  to  the  rapid 


t> 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  •    255 

rustle  overhead.  And  then  he  would  suddenly  get  up, 
go  to  Leonie's  room  and  look  under  the  bed.  When  he 
at  last  discovered  that  many  of  the  anonymous  letters 
by  which  he  was  persecuted  came  from  the  pen  of  a 
half-caste  who  described  himself  as  his  son  and  was 
even  known  by  his  own  surname  in  the  compound,  he 
felt  too  undoubtful  to  investigate  the  matter,  because  of 
what  might  come  to  light  that  he  had  himself  forgotten, 
dating  from  his  controllership,  from  the  old  days,  at 
Ngadjiwa.  He  was  doubtful  now  as  to  things  of 
which  he  had  once  been  certain  and  positive.  Nowa- 
days he  was  no  longer  able  to  order  his  recollections  of 
that  period  so  positively  that  he  would  swear  that  he 
had  not  a  son,  begotten  almost  unconsciously  in  those 
days.  He  did  not  clearly  remember  the  housekeeper 
who  had  looked  after  him  before  his  first  marriage. 
And  he  preferred  to  let  the  whole  business  of  the 
anonymous  letters  smoulder  in  the  dusky  shadows, 
rather  than  stir  it  up  and  enquire  into  it.  He  even 
caused  money  to  be  sent  to  the  native  who  called  him- 
self his  son,  so  that  the  fellow  might  not  abuse  the  name 
which  he  arrogated  to  himself  and  demand  presents  all 
over  the  compound:  chickens  and  rice  and  clothes, 
things  which  Si-Oudijck  exacted  from  ignorant  dessa- 
folk,  whom  he  threatened  with  the  vague  anger  of  his 
father,  the  kandjcng  yonder  at  Labuwangi.  In  order 
that  there  might  be  no  more  threats  of  this  anger.  Van 
Oudijck  sent  him  money.  It  was  weak  of  him:  he 
M-ould  never  have  done  it  in  the  old  days.  But  now  he 
had  an  inclination  to  hush  things  up,  to  gloss  over 
things,  to  be  less  stern  and  severe  and  rather  to  mitigate 
anything  unduly  strict  by  half-measures.  Eldersma 
was  sometimes  amazed  when  he  saw  the  resident,  who 


256  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

used  to  be  so  firm,  hesitating,  when  he  saw  him  yielding 
in  matters  of  business,  in  differences  with  crown 
tenants,  as  he  had  never  done  before.  And  slack 
methods  of  work  would  have  found  their  way  in  the  of- 
fice, automatically,  if  Eldersma  had  not  taken  the  work 
out  of  Van  Oudijck's  hands  and  given  himself  even 
more  to  do  than  he  already  had.  It  was  generally 
stated  that  the  resident  was  ill.  And,  in  point  of  fact, 
his  skin  was  yellow ;  his  liver  was  painful ;  the  least 
thing  set  his  nerves  quivering.  It  unsettled  the  house. 
In  conjunction  with  Doddie's  tempers  and  outbursts  and 
Theo's  jealousy  and  hatred,  for  Theo  was  at  home 
again,  had  already  thrown  up  Surabaya.  Leonie  alone 
continued  her  triumphant  career,  ever  beautiful,  white, 
calm  smiling,  contented,  happy  in  the  lasting  passion  of 
Addie,  whom  she  knew  how  to  hold,  amorous  expert, 
love's  sorceress  that  she  was.  Fate  had  warned  her 
and  she  kept  Theo  at  a  distance ;  but,  for  the  rest,  she 
was  happy  and  contented. 

Then  suddenly  Batavia  fell  vacant.  The  names  of 
two  or  three  residents  were  mentioned,  but  Van 
Oudijck  had  possesed  the  best  chance.  And  he  worried 
about  it,  was  afraid  of  it:  he  did  not  care  for  Batavia, 
as  a  residency.  He  would  not  have  been  able  to  work 
in  Batavia  as  he  worked  here,  at  Labuwangi,  zealously 
and  devotedly  fostering  so  many  different  interests  con- 
nected with  agriculture  and  the  people.  He  would 
rather  have  been  appointed  to  Surabaya,  where  there 
was  plenty  going  on :  or  to  one  of  the  Vorstenlanden, 
where  his  tact  in  dealing  with  the  native  princes  would 
have  been  turned  to  good  purpose.  But  Batavia!  It 
was  the  least  Interesting  of  all  districts  for  a  resident, 
from  the  point  of  viev*'  of  an  official,  and,  what  with 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  257 

the  arrogant  atmospliere  of  the  place,  the  least  flatter- 
ing to  one  in  the  position  of  resident,  in  close  contact 
with  the  governor-general,  surrounded  by  the  highest 
officials,  so  that  the  resident,  who  was  almost  supreme 
anywhere  else,  was  at  Batavia  no  more  than  yet  another 
high  official  among  so  many  members  of  Council  and 
directors.  And  it  was  much  too  near  Buitenzorg,  with 
its  arbitrary  secretariat,  whose  bureaucratic  and  red- 
tape  methods  were  always  clashing  with  the  practical 
administrative  methods  of  the  residents  themselves. 

The  prospect  of  being  appointed  unsettled  him  en- 
tirely, harrassed  him  more  than  ever,  with  the  thought 
of  leaving  Labuwangi  in  a  month's  time,  of  selling  up 
his  furniture.  It  would  break  his  heart  to  leave  Labu- 
wangi. In  spite  of  all  that  he  had  gone  through  there, 
he  loved  the  town  and  especially  his  district.  During 
all  those  years,  he  had  left  traces  of  activity  through- 
out his  district,  traces  of  his  devoted  labour,  of  his 
ambition,  of  his  affection.  And  now,  within  a  month, 
he  would  probably  have  to  transfer  all  this  to  a  suc- 
cessor, to  tear  himself  away  from  everything  that  he 
had  so  lovingly  cherished  and  fostered.  It  filled  him 
with  a  sombre  melancholy.  He  cared  not  a  straw  for 
the  fact  that  the  promotion  also  brought  him  nearer  to 
his  pension.  That  unoccupied  future,  with  the  bore- 
dom of  approaching  old  age,  was  a  very  nightmare  to 
him.  And  his  successor  would  perhaps  make  all  man- 
ner of  changes,  would  disagree  at  every  single  jx)int. 

In  the  end,  the  chance  of  his  promotion  became  such 
a  morbid  obsession  with  him  that  the  improbable  thing 
happened  and  he  wrote  to  the  director  of  the  B.B.  and  . 
to  the  governor-general,  begging  to  be  left  at  Labu- 
wangi.    The  secret  of  these  letters  was  pretty  well 


258  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

kept:  he  himself  concealed  them  entirely,  both  from 
his  family  and  from  his  officials,  so  that,  when  a 
younger,  second-class  resident  was  appointed  Resident 
of  Batavia,  people  said  that  Van  Oudijck  had  been 
passed  over,  but  not  that  this  had  happened  at  his  own 
request.  And,  in  seeking  the  cause,  they  raked  up  all 
the  old  gossip  about  the  dismissal  of  the  Regent  of 
Ngadjiwa  and  the  strange  happenings  thereafter,  but 
without  finding  in  either  any  particular  reason  why  the 
government  should  have  passed  over  Van  Oudijck. 

He  himself  recovered  a  strange  sort  of  peace,  a  peace 
due  to  weariness,  to  laisser-aller,  to  becoming  rooted  in 
his  familiar  Labuwangi,  to  not  having  to  be  trans- 
ferred, old  up-country  veteran  that  he  was,  to  Batavia, 
where  things  were  so  very  different.  When  the 
governor-general,  at  his  last  audience,  had  spoken  to 
him  about  going  to  Europe  on  leave,  he  had  felt  afraid 
of  Europe,  afraid  of  no  longer  feeling  at  home  there ; 
and  now  he  felt  afraid  even  of  Batavia.  And  yet  he 
"knew  all  there  was  to  know  about  the  would-be  western 
humbug  of  Batavia;  yet  he  knew  that  the  capital  of 
Java  only  pretended  to  be  exceedingly  European  and 
in  reality  was  only  half-European.  In  himself — and 
imknown  to  his  wife,  who  regretted  that  dispelled  il- 
lusion of  Batavia — he  chuckled  silently  at  the  thought 
that  he  had  succeeded  in  remaining  at  Labuwangi. 
But,  while  he  chuckled,  he  nevertheless  felt  changed, 
aged,  belittled,  felt  that  he  was  no  longer  glancing  at 
that  upward  path — the  prospect  of  constantly  winning  a 
higher  place  among  his  fellow-men — which  had  always 
been  his  path  of  life.  What  had  become  of  his  ambi- 
tion? What  had  happened  to  decrease  his  love  of 
authority?    He  put  it  all  down  to  the  influence  of  the 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  259 

climate.  It  would  certainly  be  a  good  thing  to  refresh 
his  blood  and  his  mind  in  Europe,  to  spend  a  couple  of 
winters  there.  But  the  idea  immediately  evaporated, 
wiped  out  by  his  lack  of  resolution.  No,  he  did  not 
want  to  go  to  Europe ;  it  was  India  that  he  loved.  And 
he  indulged  in  long  meditations,  lying  in  a  long-chair, 
enjoying  his  coffee,  his  light  clothing,  the  gentle  relax- 
ation of  his  muscles,  the  aimless  drowsiness  of  his 
thoughts.  The  only  obvious  thing  In  his  drowsy 
mood  was  his  ever-Increasing  suspicion ;  and  now  and 
again  he  would  suddenly  wake  from  his  languor  and 
listen  to  the  vague  sounds,  the  soft  suppressed  laughter 
which  he  seemed  to  hear  in  Leonie's  room,  even  as  at 
night  when,  suspicious  of  ghosts,  he  listened  to  the 
mufifled  sounds  In  the  garden  and  to  the  rat  scurrying 
overhead. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Addie  was  sitting  with  Mrs.  van  Does,  in  the  little 
back-verandah,  when  they  heard  a  carriage  rattle  up  in 
front  of  the  house.  They  smiled  at  each  other  and  rose 
from  their  seats: 

"I  shall  leave  you  to  yourselves,"  said  Mrs.  van  Does. 

And  she  disappeared,  to  drive  round  the  town  in  a 
dos-a-dos^  and  do  business  among  her  friends. 

Leonie  entered: 

"Wliere  is  Mrs.  van  Does  ?"  she  asked,  for  she  always 
behaved  as  though  it  were  the  first  time. 

It  was  her  great  charm.    He  knew  this  and  answered : 

"She  has  just  gone  out.  She  will  be  sorry  to  have 
missed  you." 

He  spoke  like  this  because  he  knew  that  she  liked  it: 
the  ceremonial  opening  each  time,  to  preserv^e  above 
all  things  the  freshness  of  their  liaison. 

They  now  sat  down  in  the  little  closed  middle  gal- 
lery, side  by  side  on  a  settee. 

The  settee  was  covered  with  a  cretonne  displaying 
many-coloured  flowers ;  on  the  white  walls  were  a  few 
cheap  fans  and  kakemonos;  and  on  either  side  of  a 
little  looking-glass  stood  a  console-table  with  an  imi- 
tation bronze  statue,  two  nondescript  knights,  each 
with  one  leg  advanced  and  a  spear  in  his  hand. 
Through  the  glass  door  the  musty  little  back-verandah 
showed,  with  its  damp,  yellow-green  pillars,  its  flower- 
pots, also  yellow-green,  with  a  few  withered  rose-tree? : 
and  behind  this  was  the  damp,  neglected  little  garden, 

*  Dog-cart 


^      THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  261 

with  a  couple  of  lean  coco-palms,  hanging  their  leaves 
like  broken  feathers. 

He  now  took  her  In  his  arms  and  drew  her  to  him, 
but  she  pushed  him  away  gently : 

"Doddie  Is  becoming  unbearable,"  she  said.  "Some- 
thing must  be  done." 

"How  so?" 

"She  must  leave  the  house.  She  is  so  irritable  that 
there's  no  living  with  her." 

"You  tease  her,  vou  know." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  put  out  by  a  recent 
scene  with  her  step-daughter: 

"I  never  used  to  tease  her.  She  was  fond  of  me  and 
we  got  on  all  right  together.  Now  she  flies  out  at  the 
least  thing.  It's  your  fault.  Those  everlasting  eve- 
ning walks,  which  lead  to  nothing,  upset  her  nerves." 

"Perhaps  it's  just  as  well  that  they  lead  to  nothing," 
he  murmured,  with  his  little  laugh,  the  laugh  of  the 
tempter.  "But  I  can't  break  with  her,  you  know:  It 
Avould  make  her  unhappy.  And  I  can't  bear  to  make  a 
woman  unhappy." 

She  laughed  scornfully: 

"Yes,  you're  so  good-natured.  From  sheer  good- 
nature you  would  scatter  your  favours  broadcast. 
Anvway,  she'll  have  to  go." 

"Go?    Whereto?" 

"Don't  ask  such  silly  questions!"  she  exclaimed, 
angrily,  roused  out  of  her  usual  indifference.  "She'll 
have  to  go,  somewhere  or  other,  I  don't  care  where. 
You  know,  when  I  say  a  thing,  it's  done.  And  this  is 
going  to  be  done." 

He  was  now  clasping  her  in  his  arms : 

"You're  so  angry.  You're  not  a  bit  pretty  like  that." 


262  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

In  her  temper,  she  at  first  refused  to  let  him  kiss  her ; 
but,  as  he  did  not  Hke  these  tempers  and  was  well  aware 
of  the  irresistible  power  of  his  comely  Moorish 
virility,  he  mastered  her  with  rough,  smiling  violence 
and  held  her  so  tight  to  him  that  she  was  unable  to  stir: 

"You  mustn't  be  angry  any  longer." 

"Yes,  I  will.    IhateDoddie." 

"The  poor  girl  has  done  you  no  harm." 

"Possibly." 

"On  the  contrary,  it's  you  who  tease  her," 

"Yes,  because  I  hate  her." 

"Why  ?    Surely  you're  not  jealous !" 

She  laughed  aloud : 

"No !     That's  not  one  of  my  feelings." 

"Then  why?" 

"What  does  it  matter  to  you?  I  myself  don't  know. 
I  hate  her.    I  love  tormenting  her." 

"Are  you  as  wicked  as  you  are  beautiful?" 

"What  does  wicked  mean  ?  I  don't  know  or  care ! 
I  should  like  to  torment  you  too,  if  I  only  knew  how." 

"And  I  should  like  to  give  you  a  good  smacking." 

She  again  gave  a  shrill  laugh : 

"Perhaps  it  would  do  me  good,"  she  admitted.  "I 
seldom  lose  my  temper,  but  Doddle     ,     .     .      !" 

She  contracted  her  fingers  and,  suddenly  calming 
down,  nestled  against  him  and  locked  her  arms  about 
his  body: 

"I  used  to  be  very  indifferent,"  she  confessed. 
"Latterly  I  have  been  much  more  easily  upset,  after  I 
had  that  fright  in  the  bathroom  .  .  .  after  they 
spat  at  me  so,  with  sirih.  Do  you  believe  it  was  ghosts  ? 
T  don't.  It  was  some  practical  joke  of  the  regent's. 
Those  beastly  Javanese  know  all  sorts  of  things. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  263 

.  But  since  then,  I  have,  so  to  speak,  lost  my  bear- 
ings. Do  you  understand  that  expression  ?  ...  It 
used  to  be  deHghtf  ul :  I  would  let  everything  run  off  me 
like  water  off  a  duck's  back.  But,  after  being  so  ill,  I 
seem  to  have  changed,  to  be  more  nervous.  Theo  one 
day,  when  he  was  angry  with  me,  said  that  I've  been 
hysterical  since  then  .  .  .  and  I  never  used  to  be. 
I  don't  know:  perhaps  he's  right.  But  I'm  certainly 
changed.  ...  I  don't  care  so  much  what  people 
think  or  say;  I  think  I'm  growing  cjuite  shameless. 
They're  gossiping  too  more  spitefully  than 
they  used  to.  .  .  .  Van  Oudijck  irritates  me,  pry- 
ing about  as  he  does.  He's  beginning  to  notice  some- 
thing. .  .  .  And  Doddie !  Doddie !  .  .  .  I'm 
not  jealous,  but  I  can't  stand  her  evening  walks  with 
you.  ,  .  .  You  must  give  It  up,  do  you  hear,  walk- 
ing with  her.  I  won't  have  It,  I  won't  have  It.  .  .  . 
And  then  everything  bores  me  In  this  place,  at  Labu- 
wangl.  What  a  wretched,  monotonous  life!  .  .  . 
Surabaya's  a  bore  too.  .  .  .  So's  Batavla.  .  .  . 
It's  all  so  dull  and  stodgy:  people  never  think  of 
anything  new.  ...  I  should  like  to  go  to  Paris. 
I  believe  I  have  It  In  me  to  enjoy  Paris  thoroughly. 

•  *  • 

"Do  I  bore  you  too  ?' 

"You?" 

She  stroked  his  face  with  her  two  hands  and  passed 
them  over  his  chest  and  down  his  thighs. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you.  You're  a  pretty 
boy,  but  you're  too  good-natured.  That  irritates  me 
too.  You  kiss  everybody  who  wants  you  to  kiss  them. 
At  Patjaram,  you  are  always  pawing  everybody,  In- 


264  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

eluding  your  old  mother  and  your  sisters,  I  think  it's 
horrid  of  you !" 

He  laughed: 

"Your  growing  jealous !"  he  exclaimed. 

"Jealous?  Am  I  really  getting  jealous?  How 
horrid  if  I  am!  I  don't  know:  I  don't  think  I  am,  all 
the  same.  I  don't  want  to  be.  After  all,  I  believe 
there's  something  that  will  always  protect  me." 

"A  devil.     .     .     ." 

"Possibly.     Un  bon  diahle." 

"Are  you  taking  to  speaking  French  ?" 

"Yes.  With  a  view  to  Paris.  .  .  .  There's 
something  that  protects  me.  I  firmly  believe  that  life 
can  do  me  no  Injury,  that  nothing  can  touch  me." 

"You're  becoming  superstitious." 

"Oh,  I  was  always  that !  Perhaps  I've  become  more 
so.     .     .     .     Tell  me,  have  I  changed,  lately  ?" 

"You're  touchier." 

"Not  so  indifferent  as  I  was?" 

"You're  gayer,  more  amusing." 

"Used  I  to  be  a  bore?" 

"You  wxre  a  little  quiet.  You  were  always  beauti- 
ful, exquisite,  divine     .     .     .     but  rather  quiet." 

"Perhaps  It  was  because  I  minded  people  more 
then." 

"Don't  you  now?" 

"No,  not  now.  They  gossip  just  the  same.  .  .  . 
But  tell  me,  haven't  I  changed  more  than  that  ?" 

"Yes,  you  have:  you're  more  jealous,  more  super- 
stitious, more  touchy.  .  .  .  What  more  do  you 
want?" 

"Physically:    haven't  I  changed  physically?" 

"No/* 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  265 

"Haven't  I  grown  older?  .  .  .  Am  I  not  get- 
ting wrinkled  ?" 

"You?    Never!" 

"Listen.  I  believe  I  have  still  quite  a  future  before 
me,  something  very  different.     .     .     ." 

"In  Paris?" 

"Perhaps.     .     .     .     Tell  me,  am  I  not  too  old  ?" 

"What  for?" 

"For  Paris.     .     .     .     How  old  do  you  think  I  am?" 

"Twenty-five." 

"You're  fibbing.  You  know  perfectly  well  that  I'm 
thirty-two.     Do  I  look  thirty-two  ?" 

"Rather  not!" 

"Tell  me,  don't  you  think  India  a  horrible  country? 
Have  you  never  been  to  Europe  ?" 

"No." 

"I  was  there  from  ten  to  fifteen  .  .  .  properly 
speaking,  you're  a  brown  sinjo  and  I  a  white  nonna. 

"I  love  my  country." 

"Yes,  because  you  think  yourself  a  bit  of  a  Solo 
prince.     .     .     .     That's  your  Patjaram  absurdity.     . 

.  As  for  me,  I  hate  India,  I  loathe  Labuwangi.  I 
want  to  get  away.  I  want  to  go  to  Paris.  .  .  . 
Will  you  come  too  ?" 

"No.     I  should  never  want  to  go.     .     .     ." 

"Not  even  when  you  reflect  that  there  are  hundreds 
of  women  in  Europe  whom  you  have  never  loved  ?" 

He  looked  at  her:  something  in  her  words,  in  her 
voice,  made  him  glance  up ;  a  crazy  hysteria,  which  had 
never  struck  him  in  the  old  days,  when  she  had  always 
been  the  silently  passionate  mistress,  with  half-closed 
eyes,  who  always  wanted  to  forget  everything  at  once 


266  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

and  become  conventional  once  more.  Something  in 
her  repelled  him.  He  loved  the  soft,  pliant  surrender 
of  her  caresses,  the  smiling  indolence  which  she  used 
to  display,  but  not  these  half -mad  eyes  and  this  purple 
mouth,  which  seemed  ready  to  bite.  She  seemed  to 
feel  it,  for  she  suddenly  pushed  him  from  her  and  said, 
brusquely : 

"You  bore  me.  ...  I  know  all  there  is  to  know 
in  you.     ...     Go  away.     .     .     ." 

But  this  he  would  not  do.  He  did  not  care  for  futile 
rendez-vous  and  he  now  embraced  her  and  solicited 
her.     .     .     . 

"No,"  she  said,  curtly.  "You  bore  me.  Every  one 
bores  me  here.    Everything  bores  me." 

He,  on  his  knees,  put  his  hands  about  her  waist  and 
drew  her  to  him.  She  smiling  a  little,  became  slightly 
more  yielding,  rumpling  his  hair  nervously  with  her 
hand.    A  carriage  pulled  up  in  front  of  the  house. 

"Hark!"  she  said. 

"It's  Mrs.  van  Does." 

"How  soon  she's  back !" 

"I  expect  she's  sold  nothing." 

"Then  it'll  cost  you  a  tientje."'^ 

"I  dare  say." 

"Do  you  pay  her  much  ?    For  allowing  us  to  meet  ?" 

"Oh,  what  does  it  matter?" 

"Listen,"  she  said  again,  more  attentively. 

"That's  not  Mrs.  van  Does." 

"No." 

"It's  a  man's  footstep.  ...  It  wasn't  a  dos-a- 
dos  either:  it  was  much  too  noisy." 

^Ten-guilder  note. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  267 

"I  expect  it's  nothing,"  said  she.  "Some  one  who 
has  mistaken  the  house.    Nobody  ever  comes  here." 

"The  man's  going  round,"  he  said,  Hstening. 

They  both  Hstened  for  a  moment.  And  then,  sud- 
denly, after  two  or  three  strides  through  the  cramped 
httle  garden  and  along  the  Httle  back-verandah,  his 
figure.  Van  Oudijck's  appeared  outside  the  closed  glass 
door,  visible  through  the  curtain.  And  he  had  pulled  it 
open  before  Leonie  and  Addie  could  change  their 
position,  so  that  Van  Oudijck  saw  them  both,  her  sit- 
ting on  the  couch  and  him  kneeling  before  her,  while 
her  hand  still  lay,  as  though  forgotten,  on  his  hair. 

"Leonie !"  roared  her  husband. 

Her  blood  under  the  shock  of  the  surprise  broke  into 
stormy  waves  and  seethed  through  her  veins;  and  in 
one  second  she  saw  the  whole  future:  his  anger,  the 
trial,  the  divorce,  the  money  w^hich  her  husband  would 
allow  her,  all  in  one  whirling  vision.  But,  as  though 
by  the  compulsion  of  her  nervous  will,  the  tide  of  blood 
within  her  at  once  subsided  and  grew  calm;  and  she 
remained  quietly  sitting  there,  her  terror  showing  for 
but  one  moment  longer  in  her  eyes,  until  she  could  turn 
them  hard  as  steel  upon  Van  Oudijck.  And,  by  press- 
ing her  finger  softly  on  Addie's  head,  she  suggested  to 
him  also  to  remain  in  the  same  attitude,  to  remain 
kneeling  at  her  feet,  and  she  said,  as  though  self-hypno- 
tized, listening  in  astonishment  to  her  own  slightly 
husky  voice; 

"Otto     .     .     .     Adrien  de  Luce  is  asking  me  to  put 
in  a  word  with  you  for  him.     .     .     .     He  is  asking 
for  Doddie's  hand. 

They  all  three  remained  motionless,  all  three  tmder 
the  influence  of  these  words,  of  this  thought  which  had 


268  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

come  .  .  .  whence  Leonie  herself  did  not  know. 
For  sitting  rigid  and  erect  as  a  sibyl  and  still  with  that 
gentle  pressure  on  Addie's  head,  she  repeated: 

"He  is  asking     .     .     .     for  Doddie's  hand.    .    .    ." 

She  was  still  the  only  one  to  speak.  And  she  con- 
tinued: 

"He  knows  that  you  have  certain  objections.     He 
knows  that  you  do  not  care  for  his  family 
because  they  have  Javanese  blood  in  their  arteries." 

She  was  still  speaking  as  though  some  one  else  were 
speaking  inside  her ;  and  she  had  to  smile  at  that  word 
arteries,  she  did  not  know  why:  perhaj>s  because  it  was 
the  first  time  in  her  life  that  she  had  used  the  word 
arteries,  for  veins,  in  conversation. 

"But,"  she  went  on,  "there  are  no  financial  draw- 
backs, if  Doddie  likes  to  live  at  Patjaram.  .  .  . 
And  the  children  have  been  fond  of  each  other  .  .  . 
so  long." 

She  alone  was  speaking  still: 

"Doddie  has  so  long  been  overstrung,  almost  ill. 
.     .     .     It  would  be  a  crime.  Otto,  not  to  consent." 

Gradually  her  voice  became  more  musical  and  the 
smile  formed  about  her  lips ;  but  the  light  in  her  eyes 
was  still  hard  as  steel,  as  though  she  were  threatening 
Van  Oudijck  with  her  anger  if  he  refused  to  believe 
her. 

"Come,"  she  said,  very  gently,  very  kindly,  patting 
Addie's  head  softly  with  her  trembling  fingers.  "Get 
up  .  .  .  Addie  .  .  .  and  go  to  .  .  . 
papa." 

He  rose,  mechanically. 

"Leonie,  what  were  you  doing  here?"  asked  Van 
Oudijck,  hoarsely. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  269 

"Here?    I  was  with  ]\Irs.  van  Does." 

"And  he?"  pointing  to  Addie. 

"He  ?  .  .  .  He  happened  to  be  caUing.  .  .  . 
Mrs.  van  Does  had  to  go  out.  .  .  .  Then  he 
asked  leave  to  speak  to  me.  .  .  .  And  then  he 
asked  me     .     .     .     for  Doddie's  hand.     .     .     ." 

They  were  again  all  three  silent. 

"And  you,  Otto?"  she  now  asked,  more  harshly. 
"What  brought  you  here?" 

He  looked  at  her  sharply. 

"Is  there  anything  )^ou  want  to  buy  of  Mrs.  van 
Does?"  she  asked. 

"Theo  told  me  you  were  here.     .     .     ." 

"Theo  was  right.     .     .     ." 

"Leonie.     .     .     ." 

She  rose  and,  with  her  eyes  hard  as  steel,  she 
intimated  to  him  that  he  must  believe  her,  that  she 
insisted  on  his  believing  her: 

"In  any  case,  Otto,"  she  said ;  and  her  manner  was 
once  more  gently  kind,  "do  not  leave  Addie  any  longer 
in  his  uncertainty.  And  you,  Addie,  don't  be  afraid 
.  .  .  and  ask  papa  for  Doddie's  hand.  ...  I 
have  nothing  to  say  where  Doddie  is  concerned  .  .  . 
as  I  have  often  told  you." 

They  now  all  three  stood  facing  one  another,  in  the 
narrow  middle  gallery;  breathing  with  difficulty, 
oppressed  by  their  accumulated  emotions.  Then  Addie 
said: 

"Resident,  I  ask  you  ...  for  your  daughter's 
hand." 

A  dos-a-dos  pulled  up  at  the  front  of  the  house. 

"That's  Mrs.  van  Does,"  said  Leonie,  hurriedly. 
"Otto,  say  something  before  she  comes.     .     .     ." 


270  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

"I  consent,"  said  Van  Oudijck,  gloomily. 

He  made  off  at  the  back  before  Mrs.  van  Does 
entered  and  did  not  see  the  hand  which  Addie  held  out 
to  him.  Mrs.  van  Does  came  in  trembling,  followed 
by  a  hahu  carrying  her  bundle,  her  merchandise.  She 
saw  Leonie  and  Addie  standing  stiff  and  hypnotized: 

"That  Avas  the  residen's  chariot!"  stammered  the 
Indian  lady,  pale  in  the  face.     "Was  it  the  residenF" 

"Yes,"  said  Leonie,  calmly. 

"Astaga!'^    And  what  happened  ?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Leonie,  laughing. 

"Nothing?" 

"Or  rather,  something  did  happen." 

"What?" 

"Addie  and  Doddie  are     .     .     /* 

"What?" 

"Engaged!" 

And  she  shrieked  the  words  with  a  shrill  outburst  of 
uncontrollable  mirth  at  the  comedy  of  life,  and  took 
Mrs.  van  Does,  who  stood  with  eyes  starting  out  of  her 
head,  and  spun  her  round  and  kicked  the  bundle  out  of 
the  halm's  hands,  so  that  a  parcel  of  batik  bedspreads 
and  table-slips  fell^to  the  ground  and  a  little  jam-pot 
full  of  glittering  crystals  rolled  away  and  broke. 

"Astaga!     .     .     .     My  brilliants !" 

One  more  kick  of  frolicsome  wantonness;  and  the 
table-slips  flew  to  left  and  right  and  the  diamonds  lay 
glittering,  scattered  among  the  legs  of  the  tables  and 
chairs.  Addie,  his  eyes  still  filled  with  terror,  crawled 
about  on  his  hands  and  feet,  raking  them  together. 

Mrs.  van  Does  repeated: 

"Engaged!" 

'"Heavens !    Oh  dear !" 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

Doddie  was  rapt  into  the  seventh  heaven  of  dehght 
when  Van  Oudijck  told  her  that  Addie  had  asked  her 
hand  in  marriage:  and,  when  she  heard  that  mamma 
had  been  her  advocate,  she  embraced  Leonie  boister- 
ously, with  the  emotional  spontaneity  of  her  tempera- 
ment, once  more  surrendering  to  the  attraction  which 
Leonie  had  exercised  upon  her  for  years.  Doddie  now 
at  once  forgot  everything  that  had  annoyed  her  in  the 
excessive  intimacy  between  mamma  and  Addie,  when 
he  used  to  hang  over  her  chair  and  whisper  to  her.  She 
had  never  believed  what  she  had  heard  now  and  again, 
because  Addie  had  always  assured  her  that  it  was  not 
true.  And  she  was  ever  so  happy  that  she  was  going  to 
live  with  Addie,  he  and  she  together,  at  Patjaram.  For 
Patjaram  was  her  ideal  of  what  a  home  should  be. 
The  big  house,  full  of  sons  and  daughters  and  children 
and  animals,  on  all  of  whom  the  same  kindness  and 
cordiality  and  boredom  was  lavished,  while  behind 
those  sons  and  daughters  shone  the  halo  of  their  Solo 
descent :  the  big  house  built  on  to  the  sugar  factory  was 
to  her  the  ideal  residence ;  and  she  felt  akin  with  all  its 
little  traditions:  the  samhal,  crushed  and  ground  by  a 
hahii  squatting  behind  her  chair,  while  she  sat  at  lunch, 
represented  to  her  the  supreme  indulgence  of  the 
palate ;  the  races  at  Ngadjiwa,  attended  by  the  leisurely 
Icngang-lcngaiig^  procession  of  all  those  women,  with 
the  babus  behind  them,  carrying  the  handkerchief,  the 

^The  swaying  of  the  arms  in  walking:  the  typical  gait  of  the 
native  women. 


272  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

scent-bottle,  the  opera-glasses,  were  her  ne  phis  idtra 
of  elegance;  she  loved  the  old  Dowager  Raden-Aju; 
and  she  had  given  herself  to  Addie,  entirely,  without 
reserve,  from  the  first  moment  of  seeing  him,  when  she 
was  a  little  girl  of  thirteen  and  he  a  boy  of  eighteen. 
It  was  because  of  him  that  she  had  always  resisted  with 
all  her  energy  when  papa  wanted  to  send  her  to  Europe, 
to  boarding-school  in  Brussels ;  because  of  him  she  had 
never  cared  for  any  place  except  Labuwangi,  Ngadjiwa 
or  Patjaram;  because  of  him  she  was  prepared  to  live 
and  die  at  Patjaram. 

It  was  because  of  him  that  she  had  felt  all  her  little 
jealousies,  when  her  girl-friends  told  her  that  he  was 
in  love  with  this  one  or  carrying  on  with  that  one ; 
because  of  him  she  would  always  know  those  jealousies 
great  and  small,  her  whole  life  long.  He  would  be  her 
life,  Patjaram  her  world,  sugar  her  interest,  because  it 
was  Addie's  interest.  Because  of  him  she  would  long 
for  many  children,  very  many  children,  who  would  be 
really  brown  not  white,  like  papa  and  mamma  and 
Theo,  but  brown,  because  her  own  mother  was  brown ; 
and  she  herself  was  a  delicate  brown,  while  Addie  was 
a  beautiful  bronze  colour,  a  Moorish  brown,  and,  after 
the  example  set  at  Patjaram,  her  children,  her  numer- 
ous children,  would  be  brought  up  in  the  shadow  of  the 
factory,  in  an  atmosphere  of  sugar,  with  a  view  to  their 
planting  the  fields,  when  they  grew  up,  and  milling  the 
sugar-cane  and  restoring  the  fortunes  of  the  family  to 
their  former  brilliancy.  And  she  was  as  happy  as  a 
girl  in  love  could  imagine  herself  to  be,  seeing  her  ideal, 
Addie  and  Patjaram,  so  closely  attainable,  and  not 
for  a  second  realizing  how  her  happiness  had  come 
about,  through  the  word  which  Leonie,  almost  uncon- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  273 

sciously,  had  uttered,  as  though  by  autosuggestion,  at 
the  supreme  moment.  Oh,  now  she  need  no  longer 
seek  the  dark  corners,  the  dark  sazcahs  with  Addie; 
now  she  was  constantly  kissing  him  in  broad  daylight, 
leaning  radiantly  against  him,  feeling  his  warm,  virile 
body  which  was  hers  and  would  soon  be  hers  entirely ; 
now  her  eyes  yearned  up  to  him,  for  all  to  see,  for  she 
no  longer  had  the  maidenly  power  of  hiding  her  feel- 
ings from  others ;  now  he  was  hers,  hers,  hers ! 

And  he,  wnth  the  good-natured  surrender  of  a  young 
sultan,  suffered  her  to  caress  his  shoulders  and  knees, 
suffered  her  to  kiss  him  and  stroke  his  hair,  suffered 
her  arm  around  his  neck,  accepting  it  all  as  a  tribute 
due  to  him,  accustomed  as  he  was  to  that  women's 
tribute  of  love,  he  who  had  fondled  and  caressed  from 
the  time  when  he  was  a  little,  chubby  boy,  from  the  time 
when  he  was  carried  by  Tidjem,  his  bahu,  who  was  in 
love  with  him,  from  the  time  when  he  used  to  romp  In 
a  tjelanamoniet^  with  little  sisters  and  cousins,  all  of 
whom  were  in  love  with  him.  All  this  tribute  he 
accepted  good-naturely,  though  secretly  surprised  and 
shocked  by  what  Leonie  had  done.  .  .  .  And 
yet,  he  argued,  it  would  perhaps  have  happened  some 
day  anyhow  of  itself,  because  Doddie  was  so  fond  of 
him.  He  would  rather  have  remained  unmarried: 
though  unmarried,  he  nevertheless  had  all  the  home  life 
at  Patjaram  that  he  wanted  and  retained  his  liberty  to 
bestow  abundant  love  upon  women,  in  his  good-natured 
way.  And  he  was  already  ingenuously  reflecting  that  it 
would  not  do,  that  it  would  never  do  to  remain  faithful 
to  Doddie  long,  because  he  was  really  too  good-natured 
and  the  women  were  all  so  craz)'.     Doddie  must  get 

^  Child's  suit  of  pyjamas,  laced  in  at  the  wrists  and  ankles. 


274  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

used  to  It  later  on,  must  learn  to  accept  it;  and,  he 
reflected,  after  all,  in  Solo,  in  the  Kraton,^  it  was  the 
same  thing,  with  his  uncles  and  cousins.     .     .     . 

Had  Van  Oudijck  believed  what  Leonie  said?  He 
himself  did  not  know  whether  he  did  or  not.  Doddie 
had  accused  Leonie  of  being  in  love  with  Addle ;  Theo, 
that  morning  when  Van  Oudijck  asked  him  where 
Leonie  was,  had  answered,  curtly: 

"At  Mrs.  van  Does'     .     .     .     with  Addie." 

He  had  glared  at  his  son,  but  asked  no  further 
questions;  he  had  merely  driven  straight  to  Mrs.  van 
Does'  house.  And  he  had  actually  found  his  wife  with 
young  De  Luce,  found  him  on  his  knees  before  her; 
but  she  had  said  so  quietly: 

"Adrian  de  Luce  is  asking  me  for  your  daughter's 
hand." 

No,  he  himself  did  not  know  whether  he  believed  her 
or  not.  His  wife  had  answered  so  quietly;  and  now, 
during  the  first  few  days  of  the  engagement,  she  was 
so  calm,  smiling  just  as  usual.  .  .  .  He  now  for 
the  first  time  saw  that  strange  side  of  her,  that  invulner- 
ability, as  though  nothing  could  harm  her.  Did  he 
suspect,  behind  this  wall  of  invulnerability  the  ironical 
feminine  secrecy  of  her  silently  smouldering  inner  life? 
It  was  as  though,  with  his  recent  nervous  suspicion, 
with  his  restless  mood,  In  the  rankness  of  superstition 
that  led  him  to  pry  and  listen  to  the  haunting  silence, 
he  had  learnt  to  see  around  him  things  to  which  he 
had  been  blind  In  his  burly  strength  as  a  ruler  and 
high  and  mighty  chief  official.  And  his  longing  to 
make  certain  of  the  mysteries  at  which  he  guessed 
became  so  violent  in  his  morbid  irritability  that  he 

*  Fortified  palace. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  275 

grew  more  pleasant  and  kinder  to  his  son,  though 
this  time  it  rose  not  from  the  spontaneous  paternal 
affection  which,  when,  all  was  said,  he  had  always  felt 
for  Theo,  but  from  curiosity,  to  hear  all  that  he  had  to 
say,  to  make  Theo  speak  out.  And  Theo,  who  hated 
Leonie,  who  hated  his  father,  who  hated  Addie,  who 
hated  Doddie,  in  his  general  hatred  of  all  those  about 
him,  who  hated  life  with  the  stubborn  ideas  of  a  fair- 
haired  sin  jo,  longing  for  money  and  beautiful  women, 
angry  because  the  world,  life,  riches,  happiness — as  he 
pictured  it  to  himself  in  his  petty  fashion — did  not 
come  rushing  to  him,  falling  into  his  arms,  falling  on 
his  neck:  Theo  was  willing  enough  to  squeeze  out  his 
words  drop  by  drop,  like  gall  and  wormwood,  silently 
revelling  in  the  sight  of  his  father's  suffering.  And  he 
allowed  Van  Oudijck  to  divine,  very  gradually,  that  it 
was  true,  after  all,  about  mamma  and  Addie. 

In  the  intimacy  that  sprang  up  between  the  father 
and  son  out  of  suspicion  and  hatred,  Theo  spoke  of  his 
brother  in  the  compound,  said  that  he  knew  papa  sent 
him  money  and  therefore  acknowledged  that  the  thing 
was  true.  And  Van  Oudijck,  no  longer  certain,  no 
longer  knowing  the  truth,  admitted  that  it  might  be  so, 
admitted  that  it  was  so.  Then,  remembering  the 
anonymous  letters — which  had  only  lately  ceased,  since 
he  had  been  sending  money  to  that  half-caste  who 
ventured  to  assume  his  name — he  also  remembered  the 
libels  which  he  had  often  read  in  them  and  which,  at 
the  time,  he  had  always  cast  from  him  as  so  much  filth ; 
he  remembered  the  two  names,  those  of  his  wife  and  of 
Theo  himself,  which  had  so  constantly  been  coupled  in 
them.  His  distrust  and  suspicion  blazed  up  like  flames, 
like  a  now  inextinguishable  fire,  which  scorched  every 


276  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

other  thought  or  feeling  .  .  .  until  at  last  he  was 
no  longer  able  to  restrain  himself  and  spoke  roundly  to 
Theo  on  the  subject.  He  did  not  trust  Theo's  indig- 
nation and  denial.  And  he  now  trusted  nothing  and 
nobody,  he  distrusted  his  wife  and  his  children  and  his 
officials;  he  distrusted  his  cook.     .    .    • 


11 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

Then,  like  a  clap  of  thunder,  the  rumour  ran  through 
Labuwangi  that  Van  Oudijck  and  his  wife  were  going 
to  be  divorced.  Leonie  went  to  Europe,  very  suddenly, 
really  without  any  one's  knowing  why  and  without 
taking  leave  of  anybody.  And  it  caused  a  great  scandal 
in  the  little  town:  people  talked  of  nothing  else  and 
talked  of  it  even  as  far  away  as  Surabaya,  as  far  away 
as  Batavia.  Van  Oudijck  alone  was  silent ;  and,  with 
his  back  a  little  more  bowed,  went  his  way,  working  on, 
leading  his  ordinary  life.  He  had  abandoned  his 
principles  and  assisted  Theo  to  obtain  a  job,  in  order 
to  be  rid  of  him.  He  preferred  to  have  Doddie  staying 
at  Patjaram,  where  the  De  Luce  women  would  help 
her  with  her  trousseau.  He  preferred  Doddie  to  get 
married  quickly  and  to  get  married  at  Patjaram.  In 
his  great,  empty  house,  he  now  longed  for  nothing  but 
solitude,  a  spacious,  cheerless  solitude.  He  would  no 
longer  have  the  table  laid  for  him:  they  brought  him 
a  plateful  of  rice  and  a  cup  of  coffee  in  his  office.  And 
he  felt  ill,  his  zeal  lessened ;  a  dull  indifference  gnawed 
at  his  vitals.  Pie  delegated  all  the  work,  all  the  district 
to  Eldersma;  and,  when  Eldersma,  after  not  sleeping 
for  weeks,  half-crazy  with  nervous  strain,  told  the  resi- 
dent that  the  doctor  wanted  to  send  him  to  Europe  with 
a  certificate  of  urgency.  Van  Oudijck  lost  all  his 
courage.  He  said  that  he  too  felt  ill  and  done  for. 
And  he  applied  to  the  governor-general  for  leave  and 
went  to  Batavia.  He  said  nothing  about  it,  but  he  felt 
certain   that  he   would   never  return   to   Labuwangi. 


278  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

And  he  went  away,  quietly,  with  not  a  glance  at  what 
he  was  leaving  behind  him,  at  his  great  field  of  activity, 
which  he  had  so  lovingly  organized.  The  administra- 
tion remained  in  the  hands  of  the  assistant-resident  at 
Ngadjiwa.  It  was  generally  believed  that  Van 
Oudijck  wished  to  see  the  governor-general  about  cer- 
tain questions  of  importance,  but  suddenly  the  news 
arrived  that  he  was  proposing  to  retire.  It  was  not 
credited  at  first,  but  the  report  was  confirmed.  Van 
Oudijck  did  not  return. 

He  had  gone,  without  casting  a  glance  behind  him, 
in  a  strange  indifference,  an  indifference  which  had 
gradually  corroded  the  very  marrow  of  this  once  so 
robust  and  practical  man,  who  had  always  remained 
young  in  his  capacity  for  work.  He  felt  this  indiffer- 
ence for  Labuwangi,  which,  when  there  was  a  question 
of  his  promotion  to  resident  of  the  first  class,  he  had 
thought  himself  incapable  of  leaving  except  with  the 
greatest  regret;  he  felt  this  indifference  for  his 
domestic  circle,  which  no  longer  existed.  His  soul  was 
filled  with  a  gradual  blight;  it  was  withering,  dying. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  all  his  powers  were  melting  away 
in  the  tepid  stagnation  of  this  indifference.  At  Batavia 
he  vegetated  for  a  while  In  his  hotel ;  and  It  was  gener- 
ally assumed  that  he  would  go  to  Europe. 

Eldersma  had  already  gone,  sick  almost  unto  death ; 
and  Eva  had  been  unable  to  accompany  him,  with  the 
little  boy,  because  she  was  down  with  a  bad  attack  of 
malarial  fever.  When  she  was  more  or  less  conva- 
lescent, she  sold  up  her  house,  with  a  view  to  going  to 
Batavia  and  staying  there  for  three  weeks  with  friends 
before  her  boat  sailed.  She  left  Labuwangi  with 
mixed  feelings.    She  had  suffered  much  there,  but  had 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  279 

also  reflected  much ;  and  she  had  cherished  a  deep  feel- 
ing for  Van  Helderen,  a  pure,  radiant  feeUng  such  as 
could,  she  was  sure,  shine  forth  only  once  in  a  lifetime. 
She  took  leave  of  him  as  of  an  ordinary  friend,  in  the 
presence  of  others,  and  gave  him  no  more  than  a 
pressure  of  the  hand.  But  she  felt  so  profoundly  sad 
because  of  that  pressure  of  the  hand,  that  commonplace 
farewell,  that  the  sobs  rose  in  her  throat.  That  eve- 
ning, left  to  herself,  she  did  not  weep,  but  sat  in  her 
room  at  the  hotel,  staring  silently  for  hours  before 
her.  Her  husband  was  gone,  was  ill:  she  did  not 
know  how  he  would  be  when  she  saw  him,  whether 
indeed  she  would  ever  see  him  again.  Europe,  it  v.  as 
true,  after  her  years  in  India,  stretched  its  shores 
smilingly  before  her,  held  forth  the  vision  of  its  cities, 
its  culture,  its  art ;  but  she  was  afraid  of  Europe.  An 
unspoken  fear  lest  she  should  have  lost  ground  intel- 
lectually made  her  almost  dread  the  circle  in  her 
parents'  house,  to  which  she  w^ould  have  returned  in  a 
month's  time.  She  trembled  at  the  thought  thn+  p;ople 
would  consider  her  colonial  in  her  manners  and  ideas, 
in  her  speech  and  dress,  in  the  education  of  her  child ; 
and  this  made  her  feel  shy  in  anticipation,  despite, 
all  her  pose  as  a  smart,  artistic  woman.  Certainly  she 
no  longer  played  the  piano  as  well  as  she  did ;  she  would 
not  dare  to  play  at  the  Hague.  And  she  thought  that  it 
might  be  a  good  thing  to  stay  in  Paris  for  a  fortnight 
and  brush  off  her  cobwebs  a  bit,  before  showing  her- 
self in  the  Hague.     .     .     . 

But  Eldersma  was  too  ill.  .  .  .  And  how 
would  she  find  him,  her  husband,  so  mudi  changed, 
her  once  robust  Frisian  husband,  now  tired  out,  worn 
out,  yellow  as  parchment,  careless  of  his  appearance, 


280  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

muttering  gloomily  when  he  spoke  ?  .  .  .  But  a 
gentle  vision  of  a  refreshing  German  landscape,  of 
Swiss  snows,  of  music  at  Bayreuth,  of  art  in  Italy 
dawned  before  her  staring  gaze;  and  she  saw  herself 
reunited  to  her  sick  husband.  No  longer  united  in  life, 
but  united  under  the  yoke  of  life,  the  yoke  which  they 
had  shouldered  together,  once  and  for  all. 
Then  there  was  the  education  of  her  child !  Oh,  to  save 
her  child,  to  get  him  away  from  India!  And  yet  he, 
Van  Helderen,  had  never  been  out  of  India.  But  then 
he  was  himself,  he  was  an  exception. 

She  had  l)idden  him  good-bye.     .     .      .     She  must 
muke  up  her  mind  to  forget  him.     .      .      .     Europe 
was    waiting    for    her     .      .      .     and   her   husband 
and  her  child. 

Two  days  later,  she  was  at  Batavia.  She  hardly 
knew  the  city ;  she  had  been  there  once  or  twice,  years 
ago,  when  she  first  came  out.  At  Labuwangi,  in  that 
little,  outlying  district,  Batavia  had  gradually  become 
gloilfif^i  jn  her  imagination  into  an  essentially  Eura- 
sian capital,  a  centre  of  Eurasian  civilization,  a  dim 
vision  of  stately  avenues  and  squares,  surrounded  by 
great,  wealthy,  porticoed  villas,  thronged  with  smart 
carriages  and  horses.  She  had  always  heard  so  much 
about  Batavia. 

She  was  now  staying  with  friends.  The  husband 
was  at  the  head  of  a  big  commercial  firm ;  their  house 
was  one  of  the  handsomest  villas  on  the  Koningsplein. 
And  she  had  at  once  been  very  strangely  impressed  by 
the  funereal  character,  by  the  deadly  melancholy  of 
this  great  town  of  villas,  where  thousands  of  varied 
lives  are  waging  a  silent,  feverish  battle  for  a  future  of 
moneyed  repose.     It  was  as  though  all  those  houses, 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  281 

gloomy  despite  their  white  pillars  and  their  grand 
fronts,  were  frowning  like  faces  careworn  with 
troubles  that  sought  to  hide  themselves  behind  a  pre- 
tentious display  of  broad  leaves  and  clustering  palms. 
The  houses,  however  much  exposed,  amidst  their  pil- 
lars, however  seemingly  open,  remained  closed;  the 
occupants  were  never  seen.  Only  in  the  mornings,  as 
she  went  on  her  errands  along  the  shops  in  Rijswijk 
and  Molenvliet,  which,  with  a  few  French  names 
among  them,  tried  to  give  the  impression  of  a  southern 
shopping-centre,  of  European  luxury,  Eva  would  see 
the  exodus  to  the  Old  Town  of  the  white  men,  white- 
faced,  dressed  In  white;  and  even  their  eyes  seemed 
pale  with  brooding  anxieties,  fixed  upon  a  future  which 
they  all  calculated  in  so  many  decades  or  lustres:  so 
much  made,  in  this  year  or  that ;  and  then  aw^ay,  away 
home  from  India  to  Europe.  It  was  as  though  it  were 
not  malaria  that  was  undermining  them,  but  another 
fever;  and  she  felt  clearly  that  it  was  undermining 
their  unacclimatized  constitutions,  their  souls,  as 
though  they  were  trying  to  skip  that  day  and  reach  the 
to-morrow,  or  the  day  after,  days  which  brought  them 
a  little  nearer  to  their  goal,  because  they  secretly  feared 
to  die  before  that  goal  was  attained.  The  exodus 
filled  the  trams  with  its  white  burden  of  mortality. 
Many,  already  well  off,  but  not  yet  rich  enough  for 
their  purpose,  drove  in  their  mylords^  and  buggies  to 
the  Harmonic-  and  there  took  the  tram,  to  spare  their 
horses. 

And  in  the  Old  Town,  in  the  old.  artistocratic  houses 
of  the  first  Dutch  merchants,  still  built  in  the  Dutch 

'  Victorias. 
•A  club. 


282  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

style,  with  oak  staircases  leading  to  upper  floors  which 
now,  during  the  east  monsoon,  were  stagnant  with  a 
dense,  oppressive  heat,  like  a  tangible  element,  which 
stifled  the  breath,  the  white  men  bent  over  their  work, 
constantly  beholding  between  their  thirsty  glance  and 
the  white  desert  of  their  papers  the  dawning  mirage  of 
the  future,  the  refreshing  oasis  of  tlieir  materialistic 
illusion :  within  such  and  such  a  time,  money  and  then 
off  ...  off  ...  to  Europe. 
And,  in  the  city  of  villas,  around  the  Koningsplein, 
along  the  green  avenues,  the  women  hid  themselves, 
the  women  remained  unseen,  the  whole  livelong  day. 
The  hot  day  passed,  the  time  of  beneficent  coolness 
came,  the  time  from  half -past  five  to  seven.  The  men 
returned  home  dog-tired  and  rested;  and  the  women, 
tired  with  their  housekeeping,  with  their  children  and 
with  nothing  at  all,  with  a  life  of  doing  nothing,  a  life 
without  any  interest,  tired  with  the  deadliness  of  their 
existence,  rested  beside  the  men.  That  hour  of  benefi- 
cent coolness  meant  rest,  rest  after  the  bath,  in  undress, 
around  the  tea-table,  a  short,  momentary  rest,  for  the 
fearsome  hour  of  seven  was  at  hand,  when  It  was  al- 
ready dark,  when  one  had  to  go  to  a  reception.  A  re- 
ception implied  dressing  in  stuffy  European  clothes, 
implied  a  brief  but  dreadful  display  of  European 
drawing-room  manners  and  social  graces,  but  it  also 
implied  meeting  this  person  and  that  and  striving  to 
achieve  yet  one  advance  towards  the  mirage  of  the 
future:  money  and  ultimate  rest  in  Europe.  And, 
after  the  town  of  villas  had  lain  in  the  sun  all  day, 
gloomy  and  wan,  like  a  dead  city — with  the  men  away 
in  the  Old  Town  and  the  women  hidden  in  their 
houses — a  few  carriages  now  passed  one  another  in 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  283 

the  dark,  round  the  Koningsplein  and  along  the  green 
avenues,  a  few  European-looking  people,  going  to  a 
reception.  While,  around  the  Koningsplein  and  in  the 
green  avenues,  all  the  other  villas  persisted  in  this 
funereal  desolation  and  remained  filled  with  gloomy 
darkness,  the  house  where  the  party  was  being  given 
shone  with  lamps  among  the  palm-trees.  And  for  the 
rest  the  deadliness  lingered  on  every  hand,  the  sombre 
brooding  lay  over  the  houses  wherein  the  tired  people 
were  hiding,  the  men  exhausted  with  work,  the  women 
exhausted  with  doing  nothing.      ... 

"Wouldn't  you  like  a  drive,  Eva?"  asked  her  host- 
ess, Mrs.  De  Harteman,  a  little  Dutchwoman,  white 
as  wax  and  always  tired  out  by  her  children.  "But  I'd 
rather  not  come  with  you,  if  you  don't  mind:  I'd 
rather  wait  for  Harteman.  Else  he'd  find  nobody  at 
home.     So  you  go,  with  your  little  boy." 

So  Eva,  with  her  little  man,  went  driving  in  the 
De  Hartemans'  "chariot."  It  was  the  cool  hour  of  the 
day,  before  darkness  set  in.  She  met  two  or  three 
carriages :  Mrs.  This  and  Mrs.  That,  who  were  known 
to  drive  in  the  afternoon.  In  the  Koningsplein  she 
saw  a  lady  and  gentleman  walking:  the  So-and-Sos; 
they  always  walked,  as  all  Batavia  knew.  She  met 
no  one  else.  No  one.  At  that  beneficent  hour,  the 
town  of  villas  remained  desolate  as  a  city  of  the  dead, 
as  a  vast  mausoleum  amid  green  trees.  And  3^et  it  was 
a  boon,  after  the  overwhelming  heat,  to  see  the  Kon- 
ingsplein stretching  like  a  gigantic  meadow,  where  the 
parched  grass  was  turning  green  with  the  first  rains, 
while  the  houses  showed  so  far  away,  so  very  far 
away,  in  their  hedged-in  gardens,  that  it  was  like  being 
In  the  country,  amid  woods  and  fields  and  pastures, 


284  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

with  the  wide  sky  overhead,  from  which  the  lungs  now 
breathed  in  air,  as  though  for  the  first  time  that  day, 
breathed  in  oxygen  and  Ufe:  that  wide  sky,  displaying 
every  day  as  it  were  a  varying  weahh  of  colours,  an 
excess  of  sunset  fires,  a  glorious  death  of  the  scorching 
day,  as  though  the  sun  itself  were  bursting  into  tor- 
rents of  gold  between  the  lilac-hued  and  threatening 
rain-clouds.  And  it  was  so  spacious  and  so  delightful, 
it  was  such  an  immense  boon  that  it  actually  made  up 
for  the  day. 

But  there  was  no  one  to  see  it  except  the  two  or 
three  people  who  were  known  in  Batavia  to  go  driving 
or  walking.  A  violet  twilight  rose;  then  the  night 
fell  with  one  deep  shadow;  and  the  town,  which 
had  been  deathlike  all  day,  with  its  frown  of  brood- 
ing gloom,  dropped  wearily  asleep,  like  a  city  of 
care.     •     •     • 

It  used  to  be  different,  said  old  Mrs.  De  Harteman, 
the  mother-in-law  of  Eva's  friend.  They  were  gone 
nowadays,  the  pleasant  houses  with  their  Indian  hos- 
pitality, their  open  tables,  their  sincere  and  cordial 
welcomes,  as  if  the  colonist's  character  had  in  some 
sense  altered,  had  in  some  way  been  overcast  by  the 
vicissitudes  of  chance,  by  his  disappointment  at  not 
speedily  achieving  his  aim,  his  material  aim  of  wealth. 
.And,  he  being  thus  embittered,  it  seemed  that  his 
nerves  became  irritable,  just  as  his  soul  became  over- 
cast and  gloomy  and  his  body  lethargic  and  unable  to 
withstand  the  destructive  climate. 

And  Eva  did  not  find  Batavia  the  ideal  city  of 
Eurasian  civilization  which  she  had  pictured  it  in  the 
Oosthoek.  In  this  great  money-grubbing  centre,  every 
trace  of  spontaneity  had  vanished  and  life  became  de- 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  285 

graded  to  an  everlasting  seclusion  in  the  office  or  at 
home.  People  never  saw  each  other  save  at  recep- 
tions; any  other  conversation  took  place  over  the 
telephone. 

The  abuse  of  the  telephone  for  domestic  purposes 
killed  all  agreeable  intimacy  among  friends.  People 
no  longer  saw  one  another;  they  no  longer  had  any 
need  to  dress  and  send  for  the  carriage,  the  "chariot" ; 
for  they  chatted  over  the  telephone,  in  sarong  and 
kahaai,  in  pyjamas,  almost  without  stirring  a  limb. 
The  telephone  was  close  at  hand  and  the  bell  was  con- 
stantly ringing  in  the  back-verandah.  People  rang 
one  another  up  for  nothing,  for  the  mere  fun  of  ring- 
ing up.  Young  Mrs.  De  Harteman  had  an  intimate 
friend,  a  young  woman  whom  she  never  saw  and  to 
whom  she  telephoned  daily,  for  half  an  hour  at  a  time. 
She  sat  down  to  it,  so  it  did  not  tire  her.  And  she 
laughed  and  joked  with  her  friend,  without  having  to 
dress  and  without  moving.  She  did  the  same  with 
other  friends;  she  paid  her  visits  by  telephone.  She 
did  her  shopping  by  telephone.  Eva  had  not  been 
accustomed  at  Labuwangi  to  this  everlasting  tinkling 
and  ringing  up,  which  killed  all  conversation  and,  in 
the  back-verandah,  revealed  one-half  of  a  dialogue — 
the  replies  being  inaudible  to  any  one  sitting  away  from 
the  instrument — in  the  form  of  an  incessant,  one-sided 
jabbering.  It  got  on  her  nerves  and  drove  her  to  her 
room.  And,  amid  the  boredom  of  this  life,  full  of 
care  and  inward  brooding  for  the  husband  and  pene- 
trated by  the  chatter  of  the  wife's  telephonic  conversa- 
tions, Eva  would  be  surprised  suddenly  to  hear  of  a 
special  excitement:  a  fancy- fair  and  the  rehearsals  of 
an  amateur  operatic  performance. 


286  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

She  herself  attended  one  of  these  rehearsals  during 
her  visit  and  was  astonished  by  the  really  first-rate 
execution,  as  though  those  musical  amateurs  had  put 
the  strength  of  despair  into  it,  to  dispel  the  tedium  of 
the  Batavian  evenings.    For  the  Italian  opera  had  left , 
and  she  had  to  laugh  at  the  heading  "Amusements"  in 
the    Javabode^,    which    amusements   as   a   rule   were 
limited  to  a  choice  of  three  or  four  meetings  of  share- 
holders.    This  too  used  to  be  different,  said  old  Mrs. 
De  Harteman,  who  remembered  the  excellent  French 
opera  of  twenty-five  years  ago,  which,  it  was  true,  cost 
thousands,  but  for  which  the  thousands  were  always 
available.     No,  people  no  longer  had  the  money  to 
amuse  themselves  at  night.     They  sometimes  gave  a 
very  expensive  dinner,  or  else  went  to  a  meeting  of 
shareholders.     Eva,  in  truth,  considered  Labuwangi  a 
much  livelier  place.    True,  she  herself  had  largely  con- 
tributed to  the  liveliness,  at  the  instigation  of  Van 
Oudijck,  who  was  glad  to  make  the  capital  of  his  dis- 
trict a  pleasant,  cheerful  little  town.     And  she  came 
to  the  conclusion  that,  after  all,  she  preferred  a  small, 
up-country    place,    with    a    few    cultured,    agreeable 
European  inhabitants — provided  that  they  harmonized 
with  one  another  and  did  not  quarrel  overmuch  in  the 
intimacy  of  their  common  life — to  this  pretentious, 
pompous,  dreary  Batavia.     The  only  life  was  among 
the  military  element.     Only  the  officers'  houses  were 
lit  up  in  the  evening.     Apart  from  this  the  town  lay 
as  though  moribund,  the  whole  long,  hot  day,  with  its 
frown  of  care,  with  its  invisible  population  of  people 
looking  towards  the   future:   a  future  of  money,  a 
future  perhaps  even  more  of  rest,  in  Europe. 
^  Java  Messenger. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  287 

And.  she  longed  to  get  away.  Bata^aa  suffocated 
her,  notwithstanding  her  daily  drive  round  the  spa- 
cious Koningsplein.  She  had  only  one  wish  left,  a 
melancholy  wish:  to  say  good-bye  to  Van  Oudijck. 
Her  peculiar  temperament,  that  of  a  smart,  artistic 
woman,  had,  very  strangely,  appreciated  and  felt  the 
fascination  of  his  character,  that  of  a  simple,  prac- 
tical man.  She  had  perhaps,  only  for  a  single  moment, 
felt  something  for  him,  deep  down  within  herself,  a 
friendship  which  formed  a  sort  of  contrast  with  her 
friendship  for  Van  Helderen,  an  appreciation  of  his 
fine  humian  qualities  rather  than  a  feeling  of  Platonic 
community  of  souls.  She  had  felt  a  sympathetic  pity 
for  him  in  those  strange,  mysterious  days,  for  the  man 
living  alone  in  his  enormous  house,  with  the  strange 
happenings  creeping  in  upon  him.  She  had  felt  in- 
tensely sorry  for  him  when  his  wife,  kicking  aside  her 
exalted  position,  had  gone  away  in  an  insolent  mood, 
arousing  a  storm  of  scandal,  nobody  knew  exactly 
why;  his  wife,  at  one  time  always  so  correct  in  her 
demeanor,  notwithstanding  all  her  depravity,  but 
gradually  devoured  by  the  canker  of  the  strange  hap- 
penings until  she  was  no  longer  able  to  restrain  her- 
self, baring  the  innermost  secrets  of  her  profligate 
soul  with  cynical  indifference.  The  red  betel-slaver, 
spat  as  it  were  by  ghosts  on  her  naked  body,  had 
affected  her  like  a  sickness,  had  eaten  into  the  marrow 
of  her  bones,  like  a  disintegration  of  her  soul,  of 
which  she  might  perhaps  die,  slowly  wasting  away. 
What  people  now  said  of  her,  of  her  mode  of  life  in 
Paris,  represented  something  so  unutterably  depraved 
that  it  v;as  not  to  be  mentioned  above  a  whisper. 


288  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

Eva  heard  about  it  at  Batavia,  amid  the  gossip  at 
the  evening-parties.  And,  when  she  asked  after  Van 
Oudijck,  where  he  was  staying,  whether  he  would 
soon  be  going  to  Europe,  after  his  unexpected  resigna- 
tion, a  thing  that  had  surprised  the  whole  official 
world,  they  were  unable  to  tell  her,  they  asked  one 
another  if  he  was  no  longer  at  the  Hotel  Wisse,  where 
he  had  been  seen  only  a  few  weeks  ago,  lying  on  his 
chair  in  his  little  verandah,  with  his  legs  on  the  rests, 
staring  fixedly  before  him  without  moving  a  limb.  He 
had  hardly  gone  out  at  all,  taking  his  meals  in  his 
room  and  not  at  the  tahlc-d'hote,  as  though  he — the 
man  who  had  always  been  accustomed  to  dealing  with 
hundreds  of  people — had  become  shy  of  meeting  his 
fellow-creatures.  And  at  last  Eva  heard  that  Van 
Oudijck  was  living  at  Bandong.  As  she  had  to  pay 
some  farewell  visits,  she  went  to  the  Preanger.  But 
he  was  not  to  be  found  at  Bandong:  all  that  the  hotel- 
proprietor  was  able  to  tell  her  was  that  Van  Oudijck 
had  stayed  a  few  days  at  his  place,  but  had  since  gone, 
he  did  not  know  whither. 

Then  at  last,  by  accident,  she  heard  from  a  man 
whom  she  met  at  dinner  that  Van  Oudijck  was  living 
near  Garut.  She  went  to  Garut,  feeling  pleased  to  be 
on  his  track.  The  people  in  the  hotel  were  able  to 
direct  her  to  where  he  lived.  She  could  not  decide 
whether  she  should  first  write  to  him  and  announce 
her  visit.  Something  seemed  to  warn  her  that,  if  she 
did,  he  would  make  some  excuse  and  that  she  would 
not  see  him.  And  she,  now  that  she  was  on  the  point 
of  leaving  Java  for  good,  wanted  to  see  him,  from 
motives  of  mingled  affection  and  curiosity.  She 
wished  to  see  for  herself  how  he  looked,  to  get  out  of 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  289 

him  why  he  had  so  suddenly  sent  in  his  resignation 
and  thrown  up  his  enviable  position  in  life,  a  position 
instantly  seized  upon  by  the  next  man  pushing  after 
him,  in  the  great  push  for  promotion. 

So  the  next  morning,  very  early,  without  sending 
him  word,  she  drove  away  in  a  carriage  belonging  to 
the  hotel.  The  landlord  had  explained  to  the  coach- 
man where  he  was  to  go.  And  she  drove  a  very 
long  way,  along  Lake  Lelles,  the  sombre  sacred  lake 
with  the  two  islands  containing  the  age-old  tombs  of 
saints,  while  above  it  hovered,  like  a  dark  cloud  of 
desolation,  an  ever  circling  flock  of  enormous  kalongs, 
gigantic  black  bats,  flapping  their  demon  wings  and 
screeching  their  cry  of  despair,  wheeling  round  and 
round  incessantly:  a  black,  funereal  swirl  against  the 
infinite  blue  depths  of  the  ether,  as  though  they,  the 
demons  who  had  once  dreaded  light,  had  triumphed 
and  no  longer  feared  the  day,  because  they  obscured 
it  with  the  shadow  of  their  sombre  flight.  And  it  was 
all  so  oppressive :  the  sacred  lake,  the  sacred  tombs  and 
above  them  a  horde  as;  of  black  devils  in  the  deep 
blue  ether,  because  it  was  as  though  a  part  of  the 
mystery  of  India  were  being  suddenly  revealed,  no 
longer  hiding  itself,  a  vague,  impalpable  presence,  but 
actually  visible  in  the  sunlight,  rousing  dismay  with  Its 
menacing  victory.  .  .  .  Eva  shuddered;  and, 
as  she  glanced  up  timidly,  she  felt  as  though  the  black 
multitude  of  screening  wings  might  beat  down 
upon  her.  .  .  .  But  the  shadow  of 
death  between  her  and  the  sim  only  whirled  dizzily 
round,  high  above  her  head,  and  only  uttered  its 
despondent  cry  of  triumph.  .  .  .  She  drove  on; 
and  the  plain  of  Lelles  lay  green  and  smiling  before 


290  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

her.  And  that  second  of  revelation  had  already  ticked 
past:  there  was  nothing  now  but  the  green  and  blue 
luxuriance  of  the  Javanese  landscape;  the  mystery  was 
already  hidden  away  among  the  delicate,  waving  bam- 
boos or  merged  in  the  azure  ocean  of  the  sky. 

The  coachman  was  driving  slowly  up  a  steep  hill. 
The  liquid  saia'ahs  rose  in  terraces  upwards  like  stairs 
of  looking-glass,  pale-green  with  carefully-planted 
blades  of  paddy;  then,  suddenly,  there  came  as  who 
should  say  an  avenue  of  ferns :  gigantic  ferns,  waving 
their  fans  on  high,  with  great  fabulous  butterflies  flut- 
tering around  them.  And  between  the  diaphanous 
foliage  of  the  bamboos  there  appeared  a  small  house, 
built  half  of  stone,  half  of  wattled  bamboo,  sur- 
rounded by  a  little  garden  containing  a  few  white  pots 
of  roses.  A  very  young  woman  in  sarong  and  kahaai, 
with  cheeks  gleaming  like  pale  gold  and  coal-black 
eyes  inquisitively  peeping,  looked  out  in  surprise  at  the 
carriage,  which  was  approaching  very  slowly,  and  fled 
Indoors.  Eva  alighted  and  coughed.  And  she  sud- 
denly caught  a  glimpse  of  Van  Oudijck's  face,  peering 
round  a  screen  in  the  middle  gallery.  He  disappeared 
at  once. 

"Resident!"  she  cried,  in  a  coaxing  tone. 

But  no  one  appeared  and  she  grew  confused.  She 
dared  not  sit  down  and  yet  she  did  not  want  to  go 
away.  But  round  the  corner  of  the  house,  outside, 
there  peeped  a  little  face,  two  little  brown  faces,  the 
faces  of  very  young  nonna  girls,  and  vanished  again, 
giggling.  Inside  the  house,  Eva  heard  a  greatly  ex- 
cited, very  nervous  whispering: 

"Sidin !  Sidin !"  she  heard  somebody  call,  in  a 
whisper. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  291 

She  smiled,  took  courage  and  stayed  and  walked 
about  in  the  little  front-verandah.  And  at  last  there 
came  an  old  woman,  not  perhaps  so  very  old  in  years, 
but  old  in  wrinkled  skin  and  eyes  that  )iad  grown  dim, 
wearing  a  coloured  chintz  sabaai  and  dragging  her  slip- 
pers: and,  beginning  with  a  few  words  of  Dutch  and 
then  taking  refuge  in  Malay,  smiling  politely,  she  re- 
quested Eva  to  be  seated  and  said  that  the  resident 
would  be  there  at  once.  She  herself  sat  down,  smiled, 
did  not  know  what  to  talk  about,  did  not  know  what 
to  answer  when  Eva  asked  her  about  the  lake,  about 
the  road.  All  that  she  could  do  was  to  fetch  syrup  and 
iced-water  and  wafers ;  and  she  did  not  talk,  but  only 
smiled  and  looked  after  her  visitor.  When  the  young 
jionna-izcQS  peeped  round  the  corner,  the  old  woman 
angrily  stamped  her  slippered  foot  and  scolded  them 
with  a  sudden  word ;  and  then  they  disappeared,  gig- 
gling and  running  away  with  an  audible  patter  of  little 
bare  feet.  Then  the  old  woman  smiled  again  with  her 
eternally  smiling,  wrinkled  face  and  looked  at  the 
lady  timidly,  as  though  apologizing.  And  it  was  a 
very  long  time  before  Van  Oudijck  came  at  last. 

He  welcomed  Eva  effusively,  excused  himself  for 
keeping  her  waiting.  It  was  obvious  that  he  had 
shaved  himself  in  a  hurry  and  put  on  a  clean  white 
suit.  And  he  was  evidently  glad  to  see  her.  The  old 
woman  departed,  with  her  eternal  smile  of  apology. 
In  that  first  cheerful  moment,  Van  Oudijck  seemed  to 
Eva  exactly  the  same  as  usual;  but,  when  he  had 
calmed  down  and  taken  a  chair  and  asked  her  whether 
she  had  heard  from  Eldersma  and  when  she  herself 
was  going  to  Europe,  she  saw  that  he  had  grown  older, 
an  old  man.     It  did  not  show  in  his  figure,  which,  in 


292  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

his  well-starched  white  suit,  still  preserved  its  broad, 
soldierly  air,  a  sturdy  build,  with  only  the  back  a  little 
more  bowed,  as  though  under  a  burden.  But  it  showed 
in  his  face,  in  the  dull,  uninterested  glance,  in  the 
deep  furrows  of  the  careworn  forehead,  in  the  colour 
of  his  skin,  which  was  dry  and  yellow,  while  the  thick 
moustache,  about  which  the  jovial  smile  still  flickered 
at  intervals,  was  quite  grey.  His  hands  shook  nerv- 
ously. And  he  listened  without  interrupting  while  she 
told  him  what  people  had  said  at  Labuwangi,  betray- 
ing a  lingering  curiosity  about  the  people  yonder,  about 
the  district  of  which  he  had  once  been  so  fond.  She 
discussed  it  all  vaguely,  glossing  over  things,  putting 
the  best  face  on  them  and,  above  all,  saying  nothing  of 
the  gossip :  that  he  had  taken  French  leave,  that  he  had 
run  away,  nobody  quite  knew  why. 

"And  you,  resident,"  she  asked,  "are  you  going  to 
Europe  too?" 

He  stared  in  front  of  him  and  gave  a  painful  laugh 
before  replying.    And  at  last  he  said,  almost  shyly: 

"No,  mevrouwtje.  I  don't  think  I'll  go  home.  You 
see,  I've  been  somebody  out  here  in  India ;  I'd  be  no- 
body over  there.  I'm  nobody  now,  I  know;  but  still 
I  feel  that  India  has  become  my  country.  It  has  got 
the  upper  hand  of  me ;  and  I  belong  to  it  now.  I  no 
longer  belong  to  Holland,  and  I  have  nothing  and  no- 
body in  Holland  that  belongs  to  me.  I'm  finished,  it's 
true;  but  still  I'd  rather  drag  out  my  existence  here 
than  there.  In  Holland  I  should  certainly  not  be 
able  to  stand  the  climate  ...  or  the  people. 
Here  the  climate  suits  me ;  and  I  have  withdrawn  from 
society.  I  have  helped  Theo  for  the  last  time;  and 
Doddie  is  married.  And  the  two  boys  are  going  to 
Europe,  to  school.      .      .      ." 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  293 

He  suddenly  bent  toward  her  and,  in  a  changed 
voice,  he  almost  whispered,  as  though  about  to  make 
a  confession: 

"You  see,  if  everything  had  gone  normally,  then 
then  I  should  not  have  acted  as  I  did.     I 
have  always  been  a  practical  man  and  I  was  proud  of 
it  and  proud  of  living  the  normal  life,  my  own  life, 
which   I   lived  in  accordance   with  principles   that   I 
thought  were  right,  until  I  reached  a  high  place  among 
my  fellow-men.      I  have  always  been  like  that  and 
things  went  well  like  that.     Everything  went  swim- 
mingly with  me.     When  others  were  worrying  about 
their  promotion,  I  went  over  the  heads  of  five  men  at 
a  jump.     It  was  all  plain  sailing  for  me,  at  least  in 
my  official  career.    I  have  not  been  lucky  in  my  domes- 
tic life,  but  I  should  never  have  been  weak  enough  to 
break  down  with  grief  on  the  road  because  of  that.    A 
man  has  so  much  outside  his  domestic  life.    And  yet  I 
was  always  very  fond  of  my  family-circle.     I  don't 
think  it  was  my  fault  that  everything  went  as  it  did. 
I  loved  my  wafe,  I  loved  my  children,  I  loved  my  home, 
my  home  surroundings,  in  which  I  was  the  husband, 
and  father.     But  that  feeling  in  me  was  never  fully 
satisfied.     My  first  wife  was  a  nonna  whom  I  married 
because  I  was  in  love  with  her.    Because  she  could  not 
get  the  upper  hand  of  me  with. her  whim-whams,  things 
became  impossible  after  a  few  years.     I  was  perhaps 
even  more  in  love  with  my  second  wife  than  with 
ray  first:   I  am  simply  constituted  in  those  matters. 
But  I  was  never  allowed  to  have  a  pleasant  home 
circle,  a  pleasant,  kindly  wife,  children  climbing  on 
your  knees  and  growing  up  into  men  and  women  who 
owe  their  lives  to  you,  their  existence,  in  short,  every- 


294  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

thing  that  they  have  and  possess.  That  is  what  T 
should  have  Hked  to  have.  But,  as  I  say,  though  I 
did  not  get  it,  that  would  never  have  pulled  me  under: 

•  •  • 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment  and  then  continued  in 
an  even  more  mysterious  whisper: 

"But  tlmt,  you  see,  the  thing  that  happened  .  .  . 
I  never  understood ;  that  it's  that  which  brought  me  to 
where  I  am.  That  ...  all  that  ... 
which  clashed  and  interfered  with  my  practical,  logical 
ideas  of  life  .  .  .  all  that" — he  struck  the  table 
with  his  fist — "damned  nonsense,  which 
which  happened  all  the  same  .  .  .  that  did  the 
trick.  I  did  not  shirk  the  fight,  but  my  strength  was  no 
use  to  me.  It  was  something  against  which  nothing 
availed.  ...  I  know :  it  was  the  regent.  When 
I  threatened  him  it  stopped.  .  .  .  But,  my  God, 
mevrouwtje,  tell  me,  zvhat  was  it?  Do  you  know? 
No,  you  don't,  do  you?  Nobody  knew  and  nobody 
knows.  Those  terrible  nights,  those  inexplicable 
noises  over  head,  that  night  in  the  bathroom  with  the 
major  and  the  other  officers !  It  wasn't  any  hallucina- 
tion :  we  saw  it,  we  heard  it,  we  felt  it,  it  spat  at  us,  it 
covered  us  from  head  to  foot ;  the  whole  bathroom  was 
full  of  it !  It  is  easy  for  other  people,  who  didn't  ex- 
perience it,  to  deny  it.  But  I  .  .  .  and  all  of 
us  ...  we  saw  it,  heard  it  and  felt  It !  And  we 
none  of  us  knew  who  it  was.  .  .  .  And  since 
then  I  have  never  ceased  to  feel  it.  It  was  all  around 
me,  in  the  air,  under  my  feet.  .  .  .  You  see," 
he  whispered,  very  softly,  "that — and  that  alone — did 
it.  That  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  stay  there.  That 
caused  me  to  be  struck  stupid,  to  become  a  sort  of 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  295 

idiot  in  the  midst  of  my  normal  life,  in  the  midst  of  my 
practical  good  sense  and  logic,  which  suddenly  ap- 
peared to  me  in  the  light  of  an  ill-constructed  theory 
of  life,  of  the  most  abstract  speculation,  because,  right 
through  it,  things  were  happening  that  belonged  to  an- 
other world,  things  that  escaped  me  and  everybody 
else.  That,  that  alone,  did  it!  I  was  no  longer  my- 
self. I  no  longer  knew  what  I  was  thinking,  what  I 
was  doing,  what  I  had  done.  Everything  in  me  was 
tottering.  That  ruffian  in  the  compound  is  no  child  of 
mine:  I'll  stake  my  life  on  it.  And  I  ...  I  be- 
lieved it.  I  sent  him  money.  Tell  me,  do  you  under- 
stand me?  I  don't  suppose  you  do.  It's  not  to  be 
understood,  that  strange,  unnatural  business,  if  you 
haven't  experienced  it,  in  your  flesh  and  In  your  blood, 
till  it  finds  its  way  into  your  marrow. 

"1  do  believe  that  I  experienced  it  too,  once  in  a 
way,"  she  whispered.  "When  I  was  walking  with 
Van  Hekleren  by  the  sea  .  .  .  and  the  sky  so 
far  and  the  night  so  deep  ...  or  the  rains 
came  rustling  towards  us  from  so  very  far  away  and 
then  fell  ...  or  when  the  nights,  silent  as 
death  and  yet  brimful  of  sounds,  quivered  about  one, 
always  with  a  music  which  one  could  not  catch  and 
could  scarcely  hear.  ...  Or  simply  when  I 
looked  into  the  eyes  of  a  Javanese,  when  I  spoke  to  my 
babu  and  it  seemed  as  though  nothing  of  what  I  said 
reached  her  mind  and  as  though  what  she  answered 
concealed  her  real,  secret  answer.     .     .     ." 

"That,  again,  is  another  thing,"  he  said.  'T  can't 
understand  that:  as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  I  knew 
my  native  through  and  through.  But  possibly  every 
European  feels  it  in  a  different  way,  according  to  his 


296  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

nature  and  his  temperament.  To  one  it  is  perhaps  tlie 
dislike  which  he  begins  by  feeling  for  the  country  that 
attacks  him  in  the  weak  point  of  his  materialism  and 
continues  to  oppose  him  .  .  .  whereas  tlie 
country  itself  is  so  full  of  poetry  and  I  would  almost 
say  mysticism.  To  another  it  is  the  climate,  or  the 
character  of  the  native,  or  what  you  will,  that  is 
antagonistic  and  incomprehensible.  To  me 
it  was  the  facts  which  I  could  not  understand.  And 
until  then  I  had  always  been  able  to  understand  a  fact 
.  at  least,  I  thought  so.  Now  it  appeared  to 
me  as  though  I  no  longer  understood  anything. 
In  this  way  I  became  an  incompetent  official 
and  then  I  realized  that  it  was  all  over.  And  then 
I  quietly  resigned  my  job.  And  now  I'm  here  and 
here  I  mean  to  stay.  And  do  you  know  the  strange 
part  of  it  ?  Perhaps  I  have  at  last  .  .  .  found 
my  family-circle  here.     ..." 

The  little  brown  faces  were  peeping  round  the  cor- 
ner. And  he  called  to  them,  beckoned  to  them  kindly, 
with  a  broad  fatherly  gesture.  But  they  pattered 
away  again,  audibly,  on  their  bare  feet.     He  laughed : 

"They're  very  timid,  the  little  monkeys,"  he  said. 
"It's  Lena's  little  sisters;  and  the  woman  you  saw 
just  now  is  her  mother." 

He  was  silent  for  a  second,  quite  simply,  as  though 
she  was  bound  to  understand  who  Lena  was :  the  very 
young  woman,  with  the  golden  bloom  on  her  cheeks 
and  the  coal-black  eyes,  of  whom  she  had  caught  a 
fleeting  glimpse. 

"And  then  there  are  some  little  brothers,  who  go  to 
school  in  Garut.  Well,  you  see,  that's  my  domestic 
circle.     When  I  came  to  know  Lena,  I  adopted  the 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  297 

whole  family.  I  admit  it  costs  me  a  lot  of  money,  for 
I  have  my  first  wife  at  Batavia,  my  second  in  Paris 
and  Rene  and  Ricus  in  Holland.  It  all  costs  me  money. 
And  now  my  new  'home  circle'  here.  But  now  at 
least  I  have  my  circle.  .  .  .  It's  a  very  In- 
dian kettle  of  fish,  you'll  say:  that  Indian  quasi-mar- 
riage  of  the  daughter  of  a  coffee-overseer,  with  the 
old  woman  and  the  little  brothers  and  sisters  included 
in  the  bargain.  But  I'm  doing  a  little  good.  The 
family  haven't  a  cent  and  I'm  helping  them.  And  Lena 
is  a  dear  child  and  is  the  comfort  of  my  old  age.  I 
can't  live  without  a  w^ife;  and  so  it  happened  of  itself. 
.  .  .  And  it  works  very  well:  I  lead  a  cab- 
bage-life and  drink  first-rate  coffee;  and  they  look 
after  the  old  man.     ..." 

He  was  silent  and  then  continued : 

"And  you  .  .  .  you  are  going  to  Europe? 
Poor  Eldersma!  I  hope  he'll  be  better  soon.  It's  all 
my  fault,  isn't  it?  I  w'orked  him  too  hard.  But  it's 
like  that  In  India,  mevrouw.  We  all  work  too  hard 
here  .  .  .  until  we  stop  w^orking  altogether. 
And  you  are  going  .  .  .  in  a  w^eek  ?  How  glad 
you  will  be  to  see  your  father  and  mother  and  to  hear 
good  music !  I  am  still  always  grateful  to  you.  You 
did  much  for  us,  you  stood  for  poetry  in  Labuwangi. 
Poor  India!  How  they  rail  at  her!  After  all,  the 
country  can't  help  it  that  we  freebooters  have  invaded 
their  territory,  barbarian  conquerors,  who  only  want 
t<:)  grow  rich  and  get  away!  And  then,  when  they 
don't  grow  rich,  they  start  railing:  at  the  heat,  which 
God  gave  It  from  the  beginning;  at  the  lack  of  nourish- 
ment for  mind  and  soul:  mind  and  soul  of  the  free- 
booter !    The  poor  country  that  is  railed  at  so  must  say 


298  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

in  itself,  'You  could  have  stayed  away!'  And  you 
.     you  didn't  like  India  either." 

"I  tried  to  grasp  the  poetry  of  it.  And  now  and  then 
I  succeeded.  For  the  rest,  it's  my  fault,  resident,  and 
not  the  fault  of  this  beautiful  country.  Like  your 
freebooter,  I  should  have  stayed  away.  All  my  depres- 
sion, all  the  melancholy  from  which  I  suffered  in  this 
beautiful  land  of  mystery,  is  my  fault.  I  don't  rail  at 
India,  resident.'* 

He  took  her  hand  and,  almost  with  emotion,  almost 
with  a  gleam  of  moisture  in  his  eyes,  said  softly: 

"I  thank  you  for  saying  so.  Those  words  are  like 
you,  the  words  of  a  sensible,  cultivated  woman,  who 
doesn't  rave  and  rant,  as  a  silly  Dutchman  would  at 
not  finding  in  this  country  exactly  what  corresponded 
with  his  petty  ideal.  Your  temperament  suffered  much 
here,  I  know.  It  was  bound  to.  But  it  was  not  the 
fault  of  the  country." 

"It  was  my  own  fault,  resident,"  she  repeated,  with 
her  soft,  smiling  voice. 

He  thought  her  adorable.  That  she  did  not  burst 
into  imprecations,  that  she  did  not  fly  into  ecstasies 
because  she  was  leaving  Java  in  a  few  days  gave  him 
a  sense  of  comfort.  And  when  she  rose  to  go,  saying 
that  it  was  getting  late,  he  felt  very  sad: 

"And  so  I  shall  never  see  you  again?" 

"I  don't  think  that  we  shall  be  coming  back." 

"It's  good-bye  forever  then !" 

"Perhaps  we  shall  see  you  in  Europe." 

He  made  a  gesture  of  denial : 

"I  am  more  grateful  to  you  than  I  can  say  for  com- 
ing to  look  the  old  man  up.  I  shall  drive  with  you  to 
Garut." 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  299 

He  called  out  something  indoors,  where  the 
women  were  keeping  out  of  sight  and  the  little  sisters 
giggling.  He  stepped  into  the  carriage  by  her  side. 
They  drove  down  the  avenue  of  ferns;  and  suddenly 
they  saw  the  Sacred  Lake  of  Lelles,  overshadowed  by 
the  circling  swirl  of  the  kalongs  ever  flapping  round 
and  round. 

"Resident,"  she  whispered,  *T  feel  it  here.     .     .     ." 

He  smiled: 

"They  are  only  kalongs,"  he  said. 

"But  at  Labuwangi  ...  it  was  perhaps  only 
a  rat." 

He  just  wrinkled  his  brows;  then  he  smiled  again, 
with  the  jovial  smile,  about  his  thick  moustache,  and 
looked  up  with  inquisitive  eyes: 

"What?"  he  said,  softly.  '"Really?  Do  you  feel  it 
here?" 

"Yes." 

"W^ell,  I  don't.  It's  something  different  with  every- 
bodv." 

The  gigantic  bats  shrilled  their  triumph  in  shrieks  of 
desolation.  The  little  carriage  drove  on  and  passed  a 
little  railway-halt.  And,  in  the  otherwise  lonely  region, 
it  was  strange  to  see  a  whole  populace,  a  swarm  of 
motley  Sundanese,  streaming  towards  the  little  station, 
eagerly  gazing  at  a  slow  train  which  was  approaching, 
belchinsr  black  clouds  of  smoke  amidst  the  bamboos. 
All  their  eyes  were  staring  crazily,  as  though  antici- 
pating the  bliss  of  the  first  glance,  as  though  their  first 
impression  would  be  a  treasure  for  their  souls. 

"That's  a  train  full  of  new  hadjis,"  said  Van 
Oudijck.  "They're  all  pilgrims  newly  returned  from 
.Alecca." 


300  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

The  train  stopped;  and  from  the  long  third-class 
carriages,  solemnly,  slowly,  very  devoutly  and  con- 
scious of  their  dignity,  the  had j is  alighted,  in  their  rich 
white-and-yellow  turbans,  their  eyes  gleaming  with 
pride,  their  lips  pursed  with  conceit,  in  brand-new, 
shiny  coats  and  gold-and-purple  samaars^  which  fell  in 
stately  folds  to  just  above  their  feet.  And,  humming 
with  rapturous  excitement,  sometimes  with  a  rising  cry 
of  ecstasy,  the  waiting  multitude  pressed  closer  and 
stormed  the  narrow  doorways  of  the  long  railway- 
coaches.  .  .  .  The  hadjis  solemnly  alighted. 
And  their  brothers  and  friends  vied  with  one  another 
In  grasping  their  hands  and  the  hems  of  their  gold-and- 
purple  samaars  and  kissed  that  sacred  hand  or  that 
sacred  garment,  because  it  brought  them  something  of 
Mecca  the  Holy.  They  fought,  they  hustled  one  an- 
other around  the  hadjis,  to  be  the  first  to  give  the  kiss. 
And  the  hadjis,  conceited  and  self-conscious,  seemed 
unaware  of  the  struggle,  maintained  a  peaceful  dignity 
and  a  solemn  stateliness  amid  the  struggle,  amid  the 
billowing,  buzzing  multitude,  and  surrendered  their 
hands,  surrendered  the  hem  of  their  garments  to  the 
fanatical  kiss  of  all  who  approached. 

And,  In  this  land  of  profound,  secret,  slumbering 
mystery,  in  this  people  of  Java,  which,  as  always,  hid 
Itself  In  the  secrecy  of  its  Impenetrable  soul,  suppressed 
Indeed,  but  visible.  It  was  strange  to  see  rising  to  the 
surface  an  ecstasy,  to  see  an  intoxicated  fanaticism,  to 
see  a  part  of  that  Impenetrable  soul  revealed  In  its 
deification  of  those  who  had  beheld  the  Prophet's 
tomb,  to  hear  the  soft  humming  of  a  religious  rapture, 
to  hear,  suddenly,  unexpectedly,  a  shout  of  glory,  not 

^Long  garments  hanging  from  the  waist 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  301 

to  be  suppressed,  quavering  on  high,  a  cry  which  in- 
stantly sank  again,  drowned  in  the  hum,^  as  though 
fearful  itself,  because  the  sacred  era  had  not  vet  ar- 
rived.     ... 

And  Van  Oudijck  and  Eva,  on  the  road  behind  the 
station,  slowly  driving  past  the  busy  muhitude  which 
still  buzzed  about  the  hadjis,  respectfully  carrying  their 
higgage,  obsequiously  offering  their  little  carts:  Van 
Oudijck  and  Eva  suddenly  looked  at  each  other  and 
though  neither  of  them  cared  to  express  it  in  words' 
they  told  each  other,  with  a  glance  of  understanding! 
hat  hey  felt  U,  that  they  felt  that,  both  of  them,  both 
together  this  time,  in  the  midst  of  this  fanatical  multi- 
tude.     .      .      . 

They  both  felt  it,  the  unutterable  thing,  the  thing 
that  lurks  in  the  ground,  that  hisses  under  the  volca- 
noes, that  slowly  draws  ndar  with  the  far-travelled 
winds,  that  rushes  onward  with  the  rain,  that  rattles 
by  in  the  heavy,  rolling  thunder,  that  is  wafted  from 
the  far  horizon  of  the  boundless  sea;  the  thing  that 
flashes  from  the  black,  mysterious  gaze  of  the  secre- 
tive native,  that  creeps  in  his  heart  and  cringes  in  his 
Immhk  harmat;    the  thing  that  gnaws  like  a  poison 
and  a  hostile  force  at  the  body,  soul  and  life  of  the 
European,  that  silently  attacks  the  conqueror  and  saps 
ns  energies,  causing  him  to  pine  and  perish,  sapping 
bis  energies  very  slowly,  so  that  he  wastes  away  for 
years;  and  in  the  end  he  dies  of  it,  perhaps  by  a  sud- 
den, tragic  death:  they  both  felt  it,  both  felt  the  un- 
utterable thing.     . 

And,  in  feeling  it,  together  with  the  sadness  of  their 
leave-taking,  which  was  so  near  at  hand,  they  failed 
to  see,  amid  the  waving,  billowing,  buzzing  multitude 


302  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

which  reverently  hustled  the  yellow-and-pitrple  dignity 
of  the  hadjis  returned  from  Mecca,  they  failed  to  see 
that  one,  tall,  white  hadji  rising  above  the  crowd  and 
peering  with  a  grin  at  the  man  who,  though  he  had 
lived  his  life  in  Java,  had  been  weaker  than 
That.     .     .     . 

THE  END 


GLOSSARY 
of  Malay  terms 


Adat.    Custom,  usage. 

Adu!     Oh  my! 

A}cr-planda.    Soda-water. 

Ajcr-zcanyi.     Toilet-water. 

Ajo  khvar!    Out  of  this,  outside! 

Alia  viinta!    Oh,  beg  pardon! 

Alia,  suda!    Oh,  enough  ! 

Aloon-aloon.     Square. 

AiHpas.     Cane-fibre. 

Ape  bole  buatF    What  can  one  do? 

Astaga!    Heavens  !     Oh  dear  ! 

Atap.     Palm-leaf. 

B 
Baadje.     Short,  sleeved  jacket   (diminutive  of  kabaaiy. 
Babii.    Maid-servant. 
Badjing.     Squirrel. 
Balch-balch.    Bench,  couch. 
Barang  mandi.    Bath-things. 
Batik.    Waxed  and  painted  cotton. 
Bazixi.     Bring. 
Bedak.  Rice-powder. 
Bib  it.    Seed. 
Bot'n.    No. 
Bitang.  Throw  down. 

C 
Controlleur-kotta.    Local  or  district  controller. 

D 
Dalcm.     Palace. 

Deny-deng.    Pieces  of  meat  dried  in  the  sun. 
Dessa.     \'illage. 
Djait.     Seamstress. 
Djaksa.     Native  magistrate. 
Djati.    Teak-wood. 
Djimal.    Talisman. 
Djurutnli.    Native  writer. 
Dukiin.     Native  physician. 
Dupa.    Incense. 


304  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 


Gajong.    Scoop,  bowl. 
Gamclan.     Native  orchestra. 
Calangan.    Irrigation-dike. 
Gardoc.    Native  watchman. 
Grongrong.     North-east  wind. 
Giidang.    Store-room,  go-down. 

H 
Hormat.    Homage,  cringing  salutation. 

I 

Inten-inten.    Diamonds. 

K 
Kahaai,  kabaja.    Long  native  jacket. 
Kabupaten.    Native  regent's  palace. 
Ka'm-padjang.    Long  embroidered  jacket. 
Kali.    River. 
Kalong.    Bat. 
Kandjeng.    Excellency. 
Kandjcng  tiwn.    Excellency  sahib. 
Kassian!    Poor  thing! 
Katjang-gorcng.    Roasted  monkey-nuts. 
Kebon-kotia.    Village  garden,  horticultural  garden. 
Ketju.    Robbery. 
Kakkie.    Cook. 

Komcdic-Stamboul.    Malay  Theatre. 
Konde.    Chignon. 
Kotta.     District. 
Krandjang.     Bamboo  basket. 
Kraton.    Fortified  palace. 
Kumpidan.    Monthly  council. 
Kwce-kwces.     Cakes,  pastry. 

L 
Lampu.    Lamp. 
Latta.     A  nervous  disorder  manifested  by  intense  suggestibility, 

resulting  in  mimicry. 
Lidi.    Coco-nut-fibre. 
Lodch.     Sauce  for  vegetables. 
Lombok.    Chili. 
Liiak.    Wild  cat. 

M 
Magang.    Native  clerk. 
Mandoor.    Overseer. 
Mangistan.     Mangosteen,  a  fruit. 
Massa!    Come,  come! 
Minta  apon.    Beg  pardon. 


THE  HIDDEN  FORCE  305 

N 

Njonja.    Mem-sahib. 

Njonja  besar.     Great  lady,  great  mem-sahib. 

Nonna.    Daughter  of  a  European  father  and  a  native  mother. 

O 

Oppas.     Native  contraction  of  the  Dutcli  word   opasscr,  nativd 

messenger. 
Orang-blaiida.    White  people. 

P 
Pajong.    Umbrella. 
Pangeran.    Prince. 
PasaiiJwgran.      Guest-house,    or    dak-bungalow,    for    the    use    of 

officials. 
Passer.    Market. 
Passcr-malani.    Evening  market. 
Patih.    Native  councillor. 
Pejiding.     Clasp,  buckle. 
Pendoppo.    Roofed  quadrangular  space. 
Petangan.    Sacred  prognostication  of  the  future. 
Pinter.    Shrewd. 
Pisang.    Bananas. 
Pisang  goreng.    Roasted  bananas. 
Pontianak.     Ghost. 
Preksa.    Look  and  see. 

R 
Rambufen.    A  fruit  resembling  the  litchi. 
Reside)!.    Resident. 
Residinan.     Residency. 

Ringgii.      The  Dutch  rijksdaalder:    dollar,  4.?.  2d. 
Rujak.    Unripe  fruits,  sliced  and  mixed  with  vinegar,  soya  and 

sugar. 

S 
Sado.    Dog-cart,  dos-a-dos. 
Sajs.    Yes. 

Samaar.    Long  garment  reaching  from  the  waist  to  the  feet. 
Sambat.    Condiments  served  with  curries. 
Sarong.     Native  skirt. 
Sawah.     Rice-field. 
Sedcka.     Sacrifice,  offering. 
Semba.    Obeisance,  salaam. 

Sinjo.    Son  of  a  European  father  and  a  native  mother. 
Sirih.    Betel-pepper,  betel-juice. 
Sliktir.    A  native  card-game. 
Sonket.    Chinese  gold  embroidery. 
Spen.    Butler. 

Srimpi.    Dancer  at  a  native  court,  often  a  princess. 
Sudah.    No  matter,  enough. 
Sumpitan.    Blow-pipe. 
Susa.    Fuss,  trouble. 
Susuhunan.    Emperor,  sultan. 


306  THE  HIDDEN  FORCE 

T 

Tali-api.    Wick,  slow-match. 

Tandak-girl.     Native  dancing-girl,  nautch-girU 

Tcntu.    To  a  certainty,  surely. 

Tida.    No. 

Tiber.    Mat. 

Tjclaka.     Woe,  bad  omen. 

Tjclanamonjet.     Child's  pyjamas, 

Tjikar.    Little  cart. 

Tjina  wampoos.     Chinaman  dead. 

Tokkc.    Gecko,  large-headed  lizard. 

Toko.    Bazaar,  store. 

Tong-tong.     Hollow  block  of  wood. 

Tiikan-bcsie.     Smith. 

Tnkan-hmpu.    Lamp-boy. 

Tuan.     Sahib,  mem-sahib. 

U 
Ulek.    A  condiment  made  of  Spanish  pepper. 

W 

IVagajig.    Javanese  puppet-show. 
Waringin.    Banyan. 
Wedono,    District  head. 


■  T'^'         »-ir 


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